


Who Will Remember Your Last Goodbye

by WalkingDictionary (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Category: National Treasure (Movies)
Genre: Break Up, Conspiracy, F/M, Many Original Characters - Freeform, Past Abigail Chase/Benjamin Franklin Gates, Pre Abigail Chase/Riley Poole, minor violence warning, radiation poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/WalkingDictionary
Summary: When Riley is poisoned, Ben and Abigail learn just what he means to both of them as they care for him. During the journey into Riley's secret past, they all discover some thing are best left alone.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Here goes with this story. 5+ years in the making.
> 
> Backstory to the story!
> 
> I started writing this story in either 2012 or 2013 (shortly before or after I started/finished [Ohano Mahalo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8920234/chapters/20432404)). Two things have happened. One) My writing has drastically changed. I apologize if some things remain clunky and awkward. I've done my best to fix them. And Two) I lost my bookmarks between starting and now, and much of the research I did has either been forgotten or lost. I have tried to recreate the knowledge I had when I started, but I apologize if something has been missed.
> 
>  **Note:** the title comes from Black Veil Bride's In the End.  
>  (There is a whole playlist to this story that I used to write it. Maybe I'll share it later.)

~ * ~

Riley Poole was asleep on his couch when his phone rang, startling him into awareness. He rolled over, groaning as his whole body protested moving, and his head pounded with the blood rushing through his ears.

He waited a few seconds to see if his stomach, queasy and cramping when he’d finally fallen asleep, was better, and it was, until he reached for his phone and felt acid surging up his esophagus.

He gagged, letting saliva spill from his lips as he tried to answer his phone.

“Hi,” he managed to rasp before he threw up. “Sorry,” he said as he brought the phone back to his ear.

“Riley,” his best friend, Ben Gates said, voice twitching with concern. “You don’t sound so hot.”

“Nope,” Riley smiled. “It’s just the flu. I’ll be fine in a few minutes after I get something solid in me.” He managed to drag himself upright, stumbling to the little kitchen where he ran the tap until it was chilled while he dug out a clean glass—one of those cool color-changing cups Abigail Chase, Ben’s girlfriend, had found for him a few weeks back. He set the filled cup on the counter and turned off the faucet.

“You’ve had the flu every day for the past two weeks,” Ben reminded him.

“Then maybe I’m just pregnant.” Riley snorted, “Oh, wait. I don’t have ovaries. It’s the flu.”

“Well,” Ben sighed, a great gust of air that irritated Riley’s ear. “We’re having a small get-together tonight, and Abigail and I think it would be a great idea for you to be there.”

“Do I have to dress up?” Riley pried open his fridge, blinking blearily at the contents—a half carton of two percent milk and a lonely orange. He moved on, letting gravity slam the door while he yanked open his cupboards until he found a container of oatmeal. A present from Ben or Ben’s father, he was sure, but it was bland, and it was the only thing that didn’t upset his stomach further.

“No, it’s informal. Just don’t wear a bathrobe.”

“Ben, you’ve seen my closet. Do I have a bathrobe?”

Ben didn’t respond, and Riley took the opportunity to collect a pot from under the sink, banging it around in the sink until he could fit the faucet into it. It was harder than he wanted to admit.

“What are you doing?”

“Eating.” The pot with just a little water was dropped onto the stove, and Riley cranked on the burner.

“Are you eating silverware?” Ben demanded. “’Cause that’s what it sounds like.”

“It’s a pot. I’m making oatmeal. Want some?”

“Riley, I’m not with you right now.”

“So? Come pick me up. You probably don’t want me driving to your place.”

Ben sighed again, and Riley mimicked him. Ben laughed. “Fine, I’ll be right there. And, yes, I’ll clean up your vomit.”

“Oh, thank you for reminding me,” Riley said sarcastically. “I’ll be here.” He hung up the phone, sliding it onto the counter. He grabbed another cup and filled it with water, dumping it in the pot while he measured the oatmeal.

He looked in his fridge again, sighing at the bareness. “Nope. Nothing.” He did find some molasses in the cupboard next to where the bowls were, and he decided that if Ben really didn’t like plain oatmeal, he could eat it with that.

Exhausted, Riley dropped into a chair shoved in the corner by the window, waiting for the pot to boil.

A few really long moments later, Riley dragged himself up again, lumbering toward the pot and the oatmeal, pouring the latter in and grabbing a spoon from the dish drainer by the sink. He was still stirring it slowly when Ben knocked.

“It’s open!” he called, not entirely sure if that was true or not.

Ben twisted the handle, calling, “Liar!” before using his key to unlock the door.

“So,” he said, coming to stand beside Riley as he continued to stir the lumpy-but-getting-smooth pot of gruel.

“So what?” Riley shot back, pointing to his living room. “The mess is in there. Mr. Clean is in the bathroom. Don’t forget to shower.”

“Okay,” Ben said. And Riley hated that he sounded so amendable to cleaning up vomit and/or using Riley’s shower.

“I only have molasses,” he offered as an apology of sorts, and Ben shrugged.

“Plain is good too.”

“Plain’s the only way you’re not cleaning up two messes.”

Ben frowned, a hand reaching up to Riley’s forehead. Riley jerked, pulling away and letting the hand fall between them again.

“I know, I have a fever,” Riley said. To be honest, he didn’t feel overly warm or cold.

Ben shook his head, “No, Riley. You don’t have a fever.” He reached for his forehead again, and Riley jumped back.

“Buy me dinner first,” he said, pointing back to the living room. Ben got the hint, smart man, and left him alone with the oatmeal.

Riley returned to his chair when he was done. He leaned back, tired beyond anything he’d ever felt, except these past two weeks. Ben woke him up when he returned to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Ben said, his hand already on Riley’s forehead before he could protest. “Now you have a fever.”

“So, does this mean I don’t have to go to your party tonight?”

“Eat your oatmeal,” Ben replied. “Then we’ll see.”

Obediently, mostly because he was still too tired to do anything else, Riley dragged his chair to the small table in the center of the room. Ben scooped a small amount of food into a small bowl and set it in front of him. He also handed him a small spoon. Riley took a small bite, happy when his stomach seemed to settle a bit at the non-taste.

For his part, Ben poured a little of the molasses on his oatmeal before eating any of it.

“Thought you said you wanted it plain,” Riley said, and Ben shot him a look. “Okay.”

They ate in silence, Riley, even with a smaller portion, finishing after Ben. When Ben motioned to refill the bowl, Riley shook his head. He shrugged and stood up to find some containers to store the leftovers in.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Riley announced, scooting his chair back so he could stand. Ben nodded, and then ran to help him up when he stumbled. “Just dizzy,” he tried to laugh, but Ben’s eyes were worried, and he wouldn’t let him go.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come to our party.”

“I just need to sleep,” Riley said. He let Ben lead him to the couch where he sank down, and curled into himself, falling onto his side and closing his eyes. Ben covered him with a blanket and promised to check on him in a few minutes.

Riley was asleep before he came back.

~ * ~

Riley woke up again when he rolled off the couch.

His head hurt. Probably because of banging against the floor. But, his nausea seemed to have disappeared, along with his appetite.

A quick glance at the clock he kept near the television showed that it was nearly 5:00 in the afternoon. He could hear his shower running, and thought Ben might still be here.

His suspicions were confirmed when Ben, fully dressed in casual suit-like attire joined him in the living room.

“Let’s get you into the shower,” Ben said, helping him up. “I already picked out an outfit.”

“You went through my closet? Ben, that’s a gross violation of privacy.”

“So Abigail tells me,” Ben sighed. Riley didn’t like it when he sighed. It meant he was sad or thinking, and either one made Riley feel bad. First, because he was usually the one who made Ben sigh, and second because he never spent as much time thinking about the things Ben did, so their wavelengths rarely matched. “Now get in.” Ben shoved Riley into the bathroom, maybe harder than he’d meant, and Riley stumbled. The door shut, so he locked it, even as he heard Ben tell him not to.

He found his clothes hanging on the towel rack, and he decided Ben knew him well enough to pick out something he’d wear. So, he stripped and climbed into the still-running water. It was a little warmer than he liked, but he couldn’t force himself to change it, and settled onto his haunches, letting the water cascade over his head and back.

Ben jimmied the door and came in after a few minutes.

“Hey!” Riley cried, grabbing the curtain, which he’d thankfully pulled when he’d first climbed in. He held it braced against the sides so Ben couldn’t come in farther.

“Relax,” Ben called out, and his Ben-shaped blob sat on the toilet. “I’m right here if you need me. I promise I won’t peek.”

“Why do you need to be in here?”

“You think I didn’t know you hit your head? You’ve got a bruise on your cheek, Riley.”

Riley poked both cheeks, hissing when he encountered a slight knot under his left eye. “So? Doesn’t mean anything.”

“And you’re still really pale. I think you should stay at the house with us until your flu runs its course.”

Riley didn’t respond. He felt like sulking, but thought Ben might break his promise of not peeking if it didn’t sound like he was actually showering. He grabbed a bottle of something and poured some in his hand.

“So, you’re seriously going to sit there and wait?” He scrubbed the stuff through his hair, letting the water rinse it out.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Something rustled, and Riley leaned back until he could peek through a gap. Ben was reading a newspaper in his bathroom. He stifled a laugh. Ben looked up and Riley rocked forward before Ben noticed he’d been spying.

“Hurry up, Riley.”

“Fine, but you’ll have to leave again.”

“Nope. Abigail already yelled at me for leaving you alone.”

“She does realize I am self-sufficient and have been long before I ever met you, right?”

“Come on, Riley, you must be clean by now.” And then Ben did throw open the curtain, shutting the water off and draping a towel over Riley. “You’ve been in here for a good forty minutes.”

“I-I thought it was just a few minutes.” Ben turned his back so he could stand up, and Riley dried quickly and pulled on underwear and a pair of jeans. Ben turned back and helped him into his shirts, a band-tee he’d had forever, and a light blue button-up. It really was him, so he left it alone, and he left alone the fact that Ben actually had to help him since he was dizzy again.

“Well, your bruise doesn’t look too bad,” Ben said. “You’re still pale, and let me guess, dizzy?”

Riley glared at him, but it was half-hearted, and he really wanted Ben to help him back to the couch. A deep ache had settled into his bones almost before Ben had turned the water off, and it was bothering Riley.

Ben pushed him onto the toilet and shoved socks and shoes on his feet. At least the shoes were Riley’s Converses. He blinked when Ben tied the laces. Why did he put his shoes on?

“Yeah, okay. We’ve got to go.” Instead of the couch, Ben covered his shoulders with a large coat—one of Ben’s that he’d claimed he didn’t like, and dragged him towards the door.

“I’ll set you up in the car and then come back and lock everything up. Abigail stopped by while you were asleep and took some of your things to the house.”

“Things like my laptops?”

“Things like as many of your electronics as she dared disturb.”

Riley laughed, pulling on his seatbelt and trying to click it before Ben realized he was seeing double and couldn’t really find the right angle to stick it down. Ben covered his hands with his own and guided the belt in carefully. Then, he went back to the apartment.

Riley felt himself drawing back into that drowsy state that he’d been in for most of the two weeks he’d had this flu. Before he could truly drift off, Ben was back, a small duffle bag in his hand.

“I threw out your milk since it was expired,” he said, patting Riley’s shoulder.

“Was it?” Riley murmured. “I haven’t been drinking it since I got sick.”

The trip barely registered with Riley. He swayed with the turns, but otherwise didn’t move. Ben had to wake him up again when they reached the house. He stretched, feeling his vertebrae pop as he twisted side to side, and still that ache persisted.

Abigail was waiting on the front steps to hug him when he made it there, Ben guiding him with a hand on his back. She looked a little scared, and her eyes scanned his, searching for an answer she didn’t seem to find, but she allowed him to enter the foyer.

“You know,” he said, “I never understood why you had stairs immediately before and after the front door.” At the bottom of the stairs were Patrick and Emily Gates, Ben’s parents—and, yes, they’d actually remarried again the week after they had discovered Cibola, between all the excavations of course. Emily embraced him like Abigail, a quick hug and then holding him at arm’s length to examine him.

“Hmm,” she said, drawing him close for another hug. Patrick shook his hand, and they both noticed when his hand trembled.

“Well,” Patrick said, shrugging. He stepped aside so Ben and Abigail could come down the stairs, and Ben’s hand pressed against Riley’s back again, leading him towards the front living room—the guest living room, Ben liked to call it. Riley settled onto the couch, glaring at both Abigail and Ben when it turned out to be a horsehair couch. Trust them to fill their historic house with historic furniture. He set his feet against the floor to keep from sliding off and leaned back, grumbling slightly when he began itching.

“I think you’ve figured out the real reason for this party,” Ben said, and Abigail began passing out flutes of some drink she’d grabbed when Riley had been occupied with keeping his butt secured to the couch. Riley accepted his glass and stared at the contents.

“It’s not champagne, is it?” he asked, and Abigail shook her head. “It’s ginger ale?” She smiled. It wasn’t that Riley didn’t like champagne; it just didn’t have quite the elegance that ginger ale inspired, especially in youngish looking guys who got accused of making fake IDs to get into bars. Although, that was happening less and less since he’d turned thirty a few days after the Cibola discovery.

Ben made some toast or other, but Riley wasn’t listening to him. He was busy trying to make the sudden roaring in his ears die down enough that he could stop the room from spinning. He hadn’t even taken a sip from his glass when someone took it away. He didn’t mind too much since his nausea was coming back. Also, that itch? It had spread all over his back and arms and now his stomach. He hoped it didn’t go anywhere else.

“Is there another room we could be in?” he asked, wondering if he sounded as slurred to the others as he sounded to himself. “Your couch doesn’t like me much.” He grabbed the closest hand to pull himself upright, and found Patrick glaring down at him. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Patrick said, but he did help him up, anger turning to concern as Riley swayed on his feet.

“I’m itchy,” he complained, scratching at his chest, which the itch was steadily covering. It got worse the harder he scratched it, and Patrick grabbed both his hands to get him to stop. Riley whined because now the itch hurt.

Patrick lifted his shirt, a gasp escaping his mouth as he stared at Riley’s decidedly not in shape abs and pecs. “Ben.”

Ben let out a similar sound as he glanced at Riley’s exposed skin. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong,” Riley begged. “I’m still itchy.”

“Don’t you dare scratch,” Emily, who was also looking at him, scolded.

“Ambulance or car?” Abigail asked.

“Car,” Ben said, moving towards Riley. “Stay still.”

“Okay.” Riley blinked. He felt Ben’s arms come around his back and then he was airborne, and he might have let out a squeak of discomfort or fear as vertigo slammed into him strong enough that the nausea decided it would be nice to show everyone the last thing he’d eaten in twenty-four hours.

“Oh dear,” Emily said. “There’s blood mixed in.”

“What?” Ben nearly shouted, or it could have been that Riley’s ear was close to Ben’s mouth. Yeah, Riley decided it was that. “Call Sibley Memorial and have them meet us at the ER. Also, call the police, see if we can get an escort.”

“Put me down,” Riley said. “You’re shouting in my ear. Or speaking really loud into it. Besides, I think I want to throw up again.” An empty champagne bucket was shoved under his chin, and he grasped it gratefully.

The car ride this time was more memorable. For one thing, he didn’t have his seatbelt on and kept sliding all over the backseat even though Patrick and Emily were holding him between them. Secondly, they were surrounded by a brigade of flashing lights and sirens, and alternatively, Riley could and couldn’t hear them.

The lights of the ER were somewhat dimmed by the fact that it was still bright out, but it was impressive nonetheless that a whole team of doctors and nurses met them at the entrance.

“I’m still itchy,” Riley mentioned to Emily before Ben pulled her out of the car so he could grab Riley. “No, no more carrying me!”

Ben didn’t listen, and Riley found himself in the air again. Thankfully, there was a gurney close by and Ben surrendered him quickly. Then Ben was pulled away by one of D.C.’s finest while Abigail and Emily followed the gurney as he was abducted into the ER by the medical personnel.

Patrick, the last face Riley saw before he was blasted by the excessive lights on the ceiling, was sad and staying by the door so he could keep an eye on Ben.

“Sweetheart,” Emily said, and Riley’s eyes snapped to her face. “Do you remember when you first fell ill?”

He guessed that she was repeating a question someone else had already asked. “Um,” he said, surprised that his mind blanked, and he felt someone swab his stomach. Where had his shirt gone? Oh, it was still there, pushed up so the hem was in the middle of his chest again.

Abigail’s face replaced Emily’s and the transition made Riley dizzy. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes didn’t, and that frightened Riley more than it should have. “Riley, it’s really important that you remember.”

“I know,” he said, but he thought he was slurring again and wasn’t sure if they knew what he meant. “It was about two or three weeks ago. I don’t…I don’t really know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey now, it’s okay.” And there was Ben. “Look, we have to stay here, but don’t worry, kid, you’re going to be fine.”

“Ben, I don’t have the flu, do I?” Riley started crying. He tried to stop the tears, mostly to keep them from rolling down his face and into his ears, but he was so, so, so very tired and it was easier to let them fall and let his eyes close.

He heard the muffled sounds of Ben’s shoes, and the scrape of a chair, and the wheels humming and clicking over the tiled floor, but then he was pushed into another room, and all sound stopped.

Gradually, his ears acclimated to the noises of the new room, and he was able to hear hushed voices and other, more sinister noises, like strange ticking. Still, it was a surprise when two nurses’ aides lifted him enough that they could slip his clothes off. Now, he was naked, and it was almost worse than when Ben had been in the bathroom with him. A thin blanket settled over his legs, and he realized the itchy pain had spread to all over.

“Looks like a severe allergy,” someone off to Riley’s left said. “Get a full panel done, and screen for the unusual ones.”

“I’m not unusual,” Riley mumbled, opening his eyes. He glared at the people he could see, worried when all he could see was their eyes above sterile masks. Pretty sure none of them had those when he was brought in.

“Mr. Poole,” the voice to his left said, “can you tell me what you’ve had contact with in the past twenty-four hours?”

“Ben,” Riley said, and his eyes slid shut again, “Ben’s car, Ben’s parents, Ben’s girlfriend, Ben’s house, Ben’s couch, Ben’s car again, my apartment, my couch, Ben, my shower and shower soap, someone’s oatmeal, water, air, sunlight.”

“Stop,” the voice finally commanded. “Oatmeal?”

“It’s the only thing I’ve been able to eat without getting sick on lately.”

“Ben’s couch? Your couch?”

“Ben’s was itchy, it gave me the rash. Mine was fine. I slept on it.”

“Ben’s parents? And girlfriend?”

“They were concerned. They hugged me. Well, not Patrick. He shook my hand.” Riley blinked his eyes open, wincing at the light and trying to locate the man belonging to the voice. “It happens a lot, especially since I’ve been sick.”

“I’m not going to lie, Mr. Poole,” the doctor leaned down and Riley jumped at the sudden closeness, “we think you were poisoned. Do you have any idea what it could have been?”

“Try my milk,” Riley said, remembering Ben said he’d thrown it away. “I drank some just before I got sick, but I haven’t had any since then. And Ben got rid of it. Said he threw it out.”

“Get on that,” the doctor said to someone else, and a flurry of footsteps ran from the room. “Mr. Poole, I need to draw blood now. You’ll feel a slight pinch.”

The crook of his left elbow was swabbed with ice, and a slick numbness slid over his arm. In the center of the numb, a sharp prick happened, and Riley moaned at the thought of a needle sliding into his vein. There was a digging pain, and then blissfully, nothing.

He drifted off, listening to the medical people speak around him, understanding less and less of the language. His last thought was he should ask if being overtired was a symptom.

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two un-edited chapters are posted to [my Tumblr](http://1989dreamer.tumblr.com/post/131206198675/who-will-remember-your-last-goodbye-excerpt).
> 
> The posting schedule for this story will be one chapter every week until complete.
> 
> If you think I've forgotten a tag, please let me know.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: This story is un-Beta read and is over 5 years old now. Any mistakes are my own.

~ * ~

Long after the officers had finished asking questions, and after they had collected skin and saliva samples for DNA from all of them as references for Riley’s apartment, Ben, Abigail, Emily, and Patrick settled in the waiting room.

Ben wouldn’t let anyone else touch the paperwork covering Riley’s medical history. It was something he should know. And he did; he’d had Riley sign a waiver when he’d first joined Ben’s treasure protector team detailing everything Ben should know should he end up having to drag Riley to a hospital. He just couldn’t remember it right now.

He thought of sending Abigail after it, but she hadn’t stopped pacing long enough for him to say anything to her, and his parents had absolutely no idea where the important papers were kept.

“I need to go,” he said, absently, but still watching them to gauge their reactions. No one said anything, but he caught the disapproving looks his parents shared and the angry one Abigail sent him. “Unless someone,” he emphasized, “wants to go get Riley’s medical history from my filing cabinet in the study so I can finish filling this out.”

“Fine,” Abigail snorted. “Call me if you hear anything,” she said to Emily, but conceded a kiss for Ben before she lifted his keys from the table next to him where he’d laid them and marched away.

Frustrated, Ben set the paperwork down. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know he’s slightly allergic to dogs,” he said, staring up at his parents. “We ran into a dog walker in England.”

“He likes pizza,” Patrick volunteered. “Didn’t seem to matter what it was.”

“Oh, it matters,” Ben smiled. “It just matters more who’s around him when he’s eating. With us, he probably wouldn’t make much of a fuss, but whenever Ian or the others would order pizza, he always complained about it.”

He smiled again, remembering an argument with Shaw about bacon pizza. Riley had been mad that they hadn’t consulted him before ordering it, but in the end, he’d managed to eat half of it by himself when no one else liked it.

“Ben,” his mother said, and he shook himself. A doctor was approaching.

Ben grabbed the paperwork again, holding it like a shield in front of him.

“Family of Riley Poole?”

“Present,” Ben stood up. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor nodded. “I’m Dr. Sanjova.” He waved at all of them, ignoring Ben’s outstretched hand. “We believe he has suffered from some form of radioactive poisoning. We have begun a panel of several tests, and have taken the liberty of asking a more well-equipped medical facility to assist us.”

“But you don’t know the exact poisoning.” Ben couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Sanjova shook his head.

“Ben!” Abigail called, running up to him, a thin manila folder clutched in one hand. She took in Sanjova and Ben’s long faces. “You don’t know what’s wrong with him?”

Ben took the folder from her, and she went to his parents for comfort. He began filling out Riley’s medical history.

“Mr. Gates,” Sanjova spoke up again, “I have informed the CDC of the potential terrorist attack. They will want to question all of you, but first, we need to determine if Mr. Poole was the only one who was poisoned.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to find out what Riley was poisoned with and then test the rest of us for it?” Ben asked, looking up briefly. “Did you know Riley is allergic to mild painkillers?”

“We are working on identifying anything Mr. Poole may have come into contact with in his apartment,” Sanjova continued as if Ben hadn’t even spoken. “We will need as complete of a timeline from the rest of you as to his whereabouts so we may further determine what he may have been poisoned with.”

“Yes, well,” Ben hummed, rubbing his chin. “He’s been under the weather a lot since around the time of the Cibola discovery.”

“How long ago?”

“Nearly three months?”

Emily nodded, and then wrapped her arms around herself. “Do you think he’s been poisoned this whole time?”

“No,” Ben said, back to rubbing his chin. He stopped, snapping his fingers as something occurred to him. “A few days after Cibola, the day after his birthday, he complained that someone hacked the CIA.”

“How’d he know?” Patrick’s face shifted from surprised to suspicious in less than two seconds.

“Riley has…talents,” Ben said, glancing at Sanjova. “He doesn’t use them for evil. In fact, he told me he was recruited by the CIA right out of high school. He turned them down because he got a full ride scholarship to the University of District Columbia.”

Abigail sat down next to Ben, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Did they try again?”

“Several times. He turned them down right out of college to work on a personal project. Then, he turned them down again to help me search for the Templar Treasure. As far as I know, he’s turned them down five or six times.”

“Could the CIA be behind his poisoning?” Abigail looked doubtful, but Ben saw real fear in her eyes.

He shook his head. “I highly doubt that they would have tried to get him for so long if they just intended to poison him when he said no.”

“So, what?” Abigail prompted him. “Someone hacked the CIA and stole his information?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Ben,” Patrick said, an edge in his voice, and Ben stared at his father. “Riley is not a treasure, there are no clues.” He sighed then, seeing the determination in Ben’s face. “Just be careful.”

“Riley may not be a gold-and-scrolls treasure,” Ben said, an edge in  _his_  voice, “but he is certainly precious enough to be considered a treasure nonetheless.” Patrick inclined his head and at least looked a little chagrined.

“When can we visit him?” Abigail asked Sanjova, who was still standing there watching them talk with thinly disguised interest.

He shrugged, “We need to determine how much poison he ingested before we can ascertain if he is safe to be around.”

“Why wouldn’t he be safe?” Abigail was quicker than Ben, spitting out the question almost before Sanjova had finished speaking.

“Most of the time, radiation poisoning can be passed on through contact. Nearly all of Mr. Poole’s symptoms point specifically to thallium poisoning. Depending on the concentration, we think it is treatable. At this stage.”

“You’re waiting for confirmation? Of course you are.” Ben walked to the nurses’ station and handed the woman on duty the clipboard. He turned back to Sanjova. “Thallium poisoning is an odd way to try to kill someone.”

“That is why we informed the CDC. It seems unlikely that Mr. Poole would be the only victim with something such as thallium.”

“Additionally,” said another voice, and Ben turned to stare at Special Agent Peter Sadusky, “this attack is considered a terrorist act, and as such I have been tapped to investigate. Who wants to go first?” He looked pointedly at Ben.

“Fine,” Ben sighed, motioning towards a couple of chairs. He sat, waiting until Sadusky was seated before leaning forward. “I do not know why Riley was poisoned. I do not know if anyone else was caught in the fallout, but I can assure you, I will not rest until I know what’s happened.”

“Really, Ben,” Sadusky said. He fingered his tie, smoothing out imperceptible wrinkles. “We’ve already searched Mr. Poole’s apartment. The milk container was indeed the source of the thallium.”

Sanjova made some kind of noise in his throat and quickly walked away. Ben watched him go, and Sadusky touched his arm.

“You’ve all been tested already.”

“How?” And then Ben remembered the cops taking swabs of all of them. “You tested our sweat and saliva. How did you get a pure enough sample to realize what was wrong?”

“We tested for the presence of thallium. Ben, no one had as high of levels as Mr. Poole. You were the second highest, and your exposure barely tipped the scale at all.”

“How’d you get involved anyway?”

“We had information that something was going to happen. We didn’t have all the pieces until the CDC was called regarding a potential radioactive poisoning.” Sadusky pulled his glasses out of his breast pocket, sliding them on carefully and pulling a folded piece of paper from an interior pocket. He handed it to Ben, nodding when Ben began unfolding it.

“That’s Riley,” Ben said, staring at the picture of his friend. Obviously, it was from before he’d known Riley because the kid was sporting a hairdo he’d never seen on him. His glasses were cracked, taped together at one bow, a scratch over the other cheek. “What happened?”

“He was abducted by an underground recruiter for the CIA,” Sadusky took the picture back, tugging it gently from Ben’s fingers. “He managed to escape by sabotaging their compound. Ever since, they’ve been stationed on an island off the coast of Boston. Have you ever heard of the Graves?”

Ben shook his head. “Riley may have mentioned it once or twice in one of his conspiracy rants, but I wasn’t listening to him.”  _Over twenty million books and they’re all saying the same exact thing: listen to Riley._

“It’s where the recruiter has gone underground. He’s financed a compound that specializes in persuasion.”

“Has Riley ever been there?” Ben was thinking about the small vacation Riley had taken after the Templar’s Treasure and before he wrote his book.

Sadusky shook his head. “We do not believe so. However, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t had interaction with the man.”

“Do you know who the underground recruiter is?” Abigail asked, and they both turned to stare at her. “What? It would help to know Riley’s enemies.”

“His name is Markus Fillier. We do not have a current photo. In fact, the only picture we have is a sketch based on the description Mr. Poole provided when he escaped.”

“Could he be targeting Riley now?”

“Not likely,” Sadusky said, “but we want to keep an eye on Mr. Poole just the same.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Ben asked. “Riley doesn’t trust you, or anyone else, really, enough to be ‘watched.’”

“Exactly,” Sadusky said. “Which is why you are going to convince him to let us.”

“I don’t think that’s something I can do,” Ben laughed. “He’ll just feel betrayed by me if I do it.”

“So convince him it’s for the best. Surely you can do that?” Sadusky pinned Ben with a knowing look, “After all, you got him to help you with the Templar Treasure.”

_If it’s any consolation, you had me convinced._

“It’s not,” Ben said. He stood up, dusting off his hands like the distasteful thing he would have to do was something so easily rid of. Riley’s life was worth it, but Ben wasn’t willing to lose his friendship for it yet. “Give me some time,” he said, heading for the doors to outside. There wasn’t enough air in the room anymore.

~ * ~

Riley was bored. He’d been awake for maybe half an hour and the deep ache in his bones wouldn’t let him drift off again. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to fall asleep through sheer will. The heartbeat monitor beeped every few seconds, and he realized his heart wasn’t beating as fast as it normally would have if he were awake. Curious, he cracked one eye, prying it up with an effort since the lashes had become glued to his cheek.

The light coming in from the window was dull, gauzy, and altogether rather depressing. There were no other lights in his room. He glanced around, his other eye coming unstuck too.

An IV was situated in the opposite arm from which they’d drawn blood, a half-full bag hanging from a hook on the stand. The monitor was on the other side, and he watched the peaks of his heartbeat for a few moments.

The door to the room was shut, the bathroom door next to it ajar. Seeing it reminded him he had to pee, and the more he thought about it, the more he really had to go.

He struggled out of the bed, shivering as his feet settled onto the cold floor. Using his thumbnail, he scraped the monitor’s pads off his chest.  He grasped his IV pole, using it as a stand and trying not to roll it too fast as he shuffled to the bathroom.

The light was too bright when he turned it on, and he could hear the heart monitor screaming, the long sustained beep accusing him of some treachery. He ignored it and pulled up the edge of his gown so he could aim at the low-set toilet.

In the middle of his stream, a nurse entered the room, and she immediately knocked on the door. Unfortunately for Riley, the door didn’t have a lock, and she pushed it open before he could respond.

He finished as casually as he could despite the heat he felt rising in his face, washing his hands as deliberately as he could.

“Mr. Poole,” the nurse said, pointing back at the bed. “If you would?” She grabbed his arm and steadied him on the way back. He felt the roiling of nausea start up again, and he groaned.

Riley sat heavily, letting her reattach the leads on his chest. “I’m gonna be sick,” he mumbled. She looked up at him from where she was checking the IV in his arm. Without a word, she moved to a closet he hadn’t noticed, and removed an oddly shaped basin.

“Use this,” she said kindly, and she returned to checking his IV.

“What’s it called? A bedpan?”

“It’s an emesis basin,” she said, her tone amused if a little sarcastic.

“Fantastic.” He heaved then, choking on the acid that raced up his throat. He began coughing, spitting as saliva filled his mouth. She stepped away to wet a washcloth, and when she returned, he’d expelled a couple mouthfuls of bile.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the emesis basin. His eyes were watering and his stomach was still unsettled.

“Hey,” she said, “you’re fine. You’re allowed to be ill.”

“Do they know what’s wrong with me yet?”

“They know you were poisoned. They’ve got agents going through your apartment now.”

A doctor entered the room, a nurse following and pushing a cart with a pitcher, a cup, and a small container. “I am Dr. Sanjova,” the doctor said, and Riley recognized his voice from the first room. “This is Prussian Blue.” Sanjova’s demeanor was icy, and he kept his arms crossed over his chest while the nurse handed Riley the container, two deep blue gel pills clicking against the sides. She poured some liquid from the pitcher into the cup and handed it to him, too. “It will help with your poisoning.”

“Okay.” Riley fixed him with a steady gaze as he tipped the pills, one at a time, into his mouth and swallowed them with a mouthful of water. He finished the water and handed the cup back to the nurse. “What about my rash?”

“Ah,” Sanjova said, and his posture changed. He smiled, bleached white teeth shining in a tanned face. Riley still didn’t trust him. “That is simply an allergic reaction. You are allergic to horsehair. And possibly some other chemicals used to treat the couch.”

“Okay, so can I take any allergy meds with the radiation meds?”

“Not advisable.” Sanjova shook his head, his friendliness dropping away again. His eyes were dark with something Riley thought was anger. He left quickly, and Riley got the distinct feeling that he didn’t want to be around him at all.

The nurse who had come in with the doctor followed him out, while the nurse who had helped him with the emesis basin sat next to him on the bed.

“Prussian Blue can cause constipation and mild stomach discomfort,” she said, a piece of paper offered to him. “If the pills become too difficult to swallow, they can be mixed into your food.”

Riley scanned the page, finding the line she was talking about. “It’s dye? So, I’ll turn blue?”

She smiled, and shook her head. “Not entirely, just your mouth and everything in it, or just your fecal matter. And, yes, we have to analyze your stool samples, so please buzz a nurse if you have the urge.”

The page trembled in Riley’s hands, and he cleared his throat a few times. “So, I’ve got to take the dye six times a day every day for thirty days?” She nodded, giving him a smile that was genuine. He grabbed her hand when she moved to stand up. “Can I have another doctor? I don’t think Sanjova likes me much.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” she promised. “Now, I really should go.” He let her leave, and settled back on the bed, a little reassured that his heart rate seemed up again.

His eyes drifted closed, and he hummed softly, feeling his body relax as sleep crept over him. He wasn’t sure when he finally did fall asleep, but it was swift and deep and dreamless.

~ * ~

Sadusky settled into his chair, leaning back, a coffee mug set off from his left elbow while he scribbled nonsense over a blank page in a small notebook. He had doubts that Ben Gates would actually tell Riley Poole about the surveillance he was supposed to be under, and as such was going over every piece of dialogue he’d had with Gates.

Something was bothering him, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

He continued running his pen over and over the paper, pressing harder and harder until he was scratching through several sheets at once. And still, he didn’t know what was wrong.

He knew it was something he’d heard. But, maybe Gates hadn’t been the one to say it?

And, then it struck him and he sat up quickly: the FBI knew what type of radiation Poole had been poisoned with, and they had destroyed all of the tests, placing one of their own doctors to administer treatment to him. How then, had Sanjova known that it was thallium?

He grabbed his phone, dialing a number from memory. “Sir,” he said, when the deputy director answered, “we have a breach.”

~ * ~

Abigail had a cup of coffee in her hand when Ben returned from his excursion. He didn’t seem any calmer, but at least he wasn’t scowling like he had been when he’d run away almost two hours ago. Sadusky had left shortly after Ben and hadn’t reappeared as of yet.

“A nurse stopped by to tell us Riley woke up for a bit,” she said, offering him the cup as he dropped into the seat next to her. He took a sip, made a face, and gave it back. “We can go visit him as soon as he wakes up again. We might have to be careful how much we touch him, but they think he’s not radioactive anymore, if he ever really was.”

“That’s good,” Ben murmured, letting his head fall back to thump against the wall. Emily and Patrick, sitting a few seats down, glanced up at the noise, although Abigail wouldn’t put it past them to have known exactly when Ben came back.

The silence that followed was terrible. Abigail hated silence, especially ones that were shared mutually because of something bad.

“You know,” she said, and her voice seemed too loud, but she powered on, “Riley once base-jumped.”

Ben shot her an unreadable look and then deliberately turned away. Angry, Abigail moved chairs until she was next to Emily.

“Base-jumping?” Emily smiled. “Riley really doesn’t strike me as the type to voluntarily put himself in a position of either danger or height.”

“No, he doesn’t. But, he said he was paid to do it. And there is nothing Riley wouldn’t do if he got some kind of reward.”

Abigail spent the better part of an hour telling all the Riley stories she knew, which was admittedly far fewer than he probably knew about her, and certainly less than any of them knew about Ben. Emily either laughed or smiled in all the right places, but her eyes grew worried.

“I can’t believe anyone would have any reason to target him,” she said, finally, when Abigail stopped talking. “He doesn’t seem to have done much to put himself ‘on the grid,’ as he calls it.”

“Mom, the CIA has a file on him,” Ben said. “Who knows, maybe someone did hack in and steal his file. They’re not impenetrable. Riley’s hacked them at least half a dozen times.”

“And why would he do that?” Patrick said, voice tight and vibrating with anger. “What the hell is this kid wrapped up in?”

“Riley only wanted to know why they wanted him,” Ben said, but he didn’t sound certain. They lapsed into another uncomfortable silence, and Abigail had nothing left to say.

Luckily, Dr. Sanjova approached them soon after. “Mr. Poole is awake, however, I would like to suggest a limit on the number of people who visit him.”

“We’ll go,” Abigail said, pointing at Ben and herself. She gave Emily an apologetic smile while Patrick looked relieved. “We were told not to touch him?”

Sanjova nodded. “We have been unable to find any readings of radioactivity on his body, but his internal organs are saturated, and we have cause to believe that if he were to have extended contact with anyone, he would invariably infect that person.”

“So, limited contact,” Ben said, and he sounded as relieved as his dad had looked. “Good thing Riley’s not so touchy-feely, eh, Abigail?”

She just glared at him before following Sanjova down the hallway to an elevator. Ben kept pace, and thankfully kept his mouth shut. The ride was quick, going from first to third. Sanjova pointed at the first room on the left, a clipboard bearing Riley’s name resting in a clear plastic file holder stuck to the wall beside the door.

Abigail glanced at Ben and then knocked firmly. A muffled “Come in” sounded, and she pushed the door open.

 “My favorite two people!” Riley called out as they stepped into his room. He was propped up, with the headboard raised and a mountain of extra pillows behind his back. A tray was over his lap, and he was holding a spoon in his left hand, scooping green jell-o towards his mouth. He only had a little of it on his shirt and the tray.

“Sit, sit,” he invited them, motioning towards the chairs under the window. “I’ll be done with this in a bit, if you don’t mind?” He didn’t wait for an answer, another bite already on its way to his mouth.

A few quiet minutes passed as Ben and Abigail inspected the room. Riley stopped eating, shoving the tray away and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Here,” Abigail offered, using a napkin she’d found tucked in her pocket to clean off the mess. She ignored Ben’s warning glare as she deliberately dabbed Riley’s lips longer than was strictly necessary.

“Thanks,” he said, a puzzled expression on his face, then he brightened abruptly. “So, what’s new with you?”

“We’re all clean,” Ben blurted suddenly, fixing Riley with a stare. “I had the next highest concentration to you, but it was trace. Someone deliberately poisoned you, Riley.”

“Oh, I figured.” Riley fidgeted, tapping his fingers together, nervously folding and unfolding them.

“Are you okay?” Abigail asked him. “Has anything unusual been happening?”

“Hey, you know me,” Riley said, a bright smile plastered on his face. It looked fake to Abigail, and she raised an eyebrow to tell him so. He dropped the smile. “Okay, fine. Yeah, more and more people have been demanding to see my wallet. It’s gotten to the point that I don’t even carry my I.D. anymore. Too many people know where I live.”

“And how exactly are you protecting yourself?” Ben demanded. “Are you taking any self-defense classes?”

“Yes.” Riley leaned back on the pillows. “That, and I’ve taken to carrying pepper spray. I find it’s really effective if I spray it directly into a vulnerable area, particularly the mouth or eyes. By the way, I think I’m out. Ben, will you get me more?”

“Certainly,” Ben said.

“Is there anything you’d like me to get you?” Abigail reached out to brush some hair from his forehead, but Riley dodged her hand. “Come on, you’re not contagious.”

“Actually, I am. I can infect you by touch, so don’t.”

Abigail looked to Ben, and he just shrugged. “Fine. Let me know when you’re not allergic to touch anymore.”

“Oh,” Riley said, and his smile was warm. “I’m allergic to your couch.”

“Seriously?” Ben said, and Riley nodded.

“We’ll get rid of it,” Abigail said, peeking at Ben who was nodding. Riley’s smile drooped a little, and he sighed.

“You spent so much time and money restoring it. I’m sure I can avoid it.”

“Riley, your wellbeing is more important than a simple couch.”

He looked doubtful, so Abigail took the opportunity to trace a line down his arm. He jerked away but not before she felt him lean into the touch. She would not have thought Riley was someone who needed touch, in fact, Ben had said he wasn’t, but the toll of no contact must seem steep.

“I don’t want to be trouble,” he began, and Ben spit out a “Shush!”

“You are not trouble, no matter what you think,” he explained, a hand also dropping onto Riley’s arm. “We’re not going to abandon you no matter how inconvenient it seems to be for us.”

“Sure, just wait,” Riley snorted, “I’ll make you regret that promise.”

“I’m sure you’re going to try,” Ben said.

“Now,” Riley leaned back, effectively pulling himself free from their grasp. “The nurse that keeps visiting me, at least until she gets off duty in a couple minutes, said if I have minimal supervision, a doctor should let me leave pretty soon.”

“Are you sure it was ‘minimal’?” Ben said, an eyebrow raised. Abigail giggled into her fist while Riley pulled a face.

“Fine, she said I could go home  _if_  I was supervised. Happy?”

“Fine, and you’re supervised. Abigail or I will always be with you.”

“Ben, that’ll take a toll. You’ve got lectures, and Abigail has her job at the archives. And you can’t ask your parents either because they both have jobs too. Although, I’m not sure what Patrick does. Ben, what does your dad do?”

“He writes grants,” Abigail said. Ben shot her a look, and she shrugged. “I’ve used his services before. He makes excellent points, and I’ve never been turned down for a grant yet.”

“Excuse me,” someone said, and they all turned to look at a mousy-looking woman with straight brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses. “I’m Doctor Solina. I am Riley’s new doctor.”

“Hey!” Riley bounced. “I’m not Mr. Poole anymore. Yes!” Abigail held up her hand and he high-fived her lightly.

“If you’ll excuse us, I need to examine Riley to determine if he can leave soon.” Solina pointed at the door.

“We’ll be back soon,” Ben promised.

“Yeah, okay,” Riley said. “Bye.”

Ben pulled her from the room before Abigail could say anything. “We’ll have to go back to the waiting room and let my parents know they can go.”

“You go,” she said. “I’ll stay here. I think the exam’s going to be quick, and I think Riley will want someone with him pretty soon after.”

“Okay.” Ben nodded. “See you later. Love you.” He walked away before she could respond, but that was okay. She had a few pamphlets she wanted to read before Dr. Solina let her back in.

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack links posted at [my Tumblr](http://1989dreamer.tumblr.com/post/174395548775/soundtrack-to-who-will-remember-your-last-goodbye).


	3. Three

~ * ~

Dr. Solina finished rather quickly since all she wanted to do was examine Riley’s mouth, nose, ears, and breathing. She’d also checked on his rash and injected an antihistamine into his IV. “Your concentration of thallium poisoning is so low at this point that the Prussian Blue is more of a precaution than a prevention. Also, your dose of Prussian Blue is such that it won’t interfere with the antihistamine. But, it means you stay with us for another three hours,” she said, using her penlight to examine a particularly bad spot of rash on his left arm. “And stop scratching. You’ll make it worse.”

“Fine,” he said, without malice. “Are Ben and Abigail still out there?”

Solina peeked into the hall and shook her head. “I think it’s Abigail.”

“Hey, Abi!” Riley called out, surprised when Solina stumbled backward because Abigail ran into the room. “The doctor said another three hours. You should go home and get some rest.”

“It’s only eight in the evening,” Abigail said, waving a stack of papers at him.

“Visiting hours are over soon,” Solina said.

“Just stay overnight, and Ben will pick us up in the morning,” Abigail said.

“Who says you can stay?” Solina stood on tiptoes and was still shorter than Abigail, but by golly she had gumption. “I’m certainly not going to. You’re distracting my patient.”

“I think Riley would like company. Wouldn’t you, Riley?”

“If it wouldn’t cause too much trouble, can she stay?”

Solina looked between them. She raised a brow at Riley’s pleading face and finally smiled. “Fine, if she promises not to interfere with your rest.”

“She won’t.” Riley smiled, and Abigail made herself comfortable on the other bed. Solina checked him one last time, gave Abigail a stern look, and shut the door on her way out. “So,” Riley sighed.

“So,” Abigail repeated. “Riley, don’t feel so bad. Try and rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Aren’t you going to rest?”

“I am. If the light bothers you, let me know.”

“Watch TV with me?” Riley didn’t want silence, and from Abigail’s knowing look as she retrieved the television’s remote from the cabinet under the monitor, she didn’t either. She found a station that broadcast old shows like _I Love Lucy_ and _Gunsmoke_. Riley nodded his approval and settled back against the bed to rest.

Shortly afterward, he drifted off, dreaming of Abigail making origami boats because it was going to rain.

~ * ~

It was 8:00 the next morning when Ben arrived at the hospital. Riley and Abigail were ready, but the doctors hadn’t given Riley the paperwork to sign. Someone was making noise about the discharge being AMA. Ben tracked down Dr. Solina, and fifteen minutes later, Riley was signing his release papers.

He signed it using his left hand to steady his right hand as he slowly slid the pen through his signature. Ben wasn’t quite sure who was more nervous, Riley or himself, now that the hospital had finally released Riley and Riley would have to live at their house for a while. He still hadn’t broached the subject of FBI protection, either.

Ben offered a smile to the nurse who walked away with the clipboard, and then he went looking for Riley, who’d ducked into the bathroom immediately after he’d read and signed the release.

He found him still standing in front of the mirror, studying his expression.

“Look, Ben.” Riley’s hand swept through his hair, and he shook his fist at Ben. “It’s falling out.”

“It’s falling out,” Ben repeated numbly, meeting Riley’s eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah,” Riley said, his brave voice firmly in place, letting the strands of his hair fall from his hand. “It was bound to happen.” He turned slowly, and Ben noticed tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to be bald,” he said. “Not even your dad is bald.”

“Hey, now,” Ben said softly, marching up to him. He pulled him into a hug. “It’ll grow back. It will.”

Riley sobbed once, a harsh sound that tugged at Ben’s heart, then he stepped back, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling.

“Okay,” he said, and Ben noticed his brave voice was back. “I’m good. Let’s get out of here.”

Abigail met them at the car, something bright in her eyes, and before either of them quite realized it, she’d pulled a knitted green beanie over Riley’s head. Riley reached up, halfway tugging the hat off before he jerked it back down, letting it cover his eyes.

Riley curled up in the backseat, and Abigail climbed in after him. They put their heads together and began murmuring quietly. Ben slid behind the steering wheel, catching Abigail’s eye in the rearview mirror. She shook her head, but he didn’t know what she meant, and cleared his throat at the sudden fear that she knew more about Riley than him.

“Ben, don’t,” she warned when it became apparent to her that he was going to speak.

Chastised, Ben glared at the road ahead. “I was just going to ask what Riley wanted to eat,” he said.

“My stomach’s not sitting well quite yet,” Riley said. “Thanks for asking, though.”

“Fine,” Ben sighed, noticing the wince Abigail and Riley shared. “What are you in the mood for, Abigail?”

“Anything’s fine,” she replied, attention already back to Riley. Ben sighed again and let them be.

The rest of the trip passed uneventfully, and Ben parked near the front steps. Riley scooted out of the car, stretching and groaning softly. Abigail hovered by him, her hand never far from his shoulder. Ben hurried around to help too, wrapping his arm around Riley’s waist and lifting him up the stairs.

By the time they made it into the main living room, bypassing the guest living room, Riley was swaying on his feet. Ben let him sink down onto the couch while Abigail brought in a blanket and pillow for him.

“Still contagious,” Riley murmured as he stretched his legs out, toeing off his shoes and letting Abigail tuck the blanket around him.

“No, you’re not,” she reminded him gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “The doctor said you were getting better.”

“Mmm.” Riley was drifting off, struggling to keep his eyes open and focused on Ben and Abigail. Using a careful hand, Ben smoothed over his face, noticing his eyes stayed closed.

They waited for several minutes while his breathing evened out. He remained asleep while they sneaked out of the room. Ben began making tea while Abigail sat at the table.

“I can’t get over the fact that someone actually wants Riley dead,” she said when Ben set a mug in front of her. “Why would anyone poison him?”

It was a conversation they hadn’t had yet because Ben wasn’t ready. And he still wasn’t. She ignored this fact.

“Ben, really, why would anyone have any reason to kill Riley?”

“I don’t know,” he finally said, a little harshly. “Riley doesn’t tell me everything that goes on in his life.”

“Yeah, he does seem a lot more private than he first appears,” she agreed, taking a sip. “I think I’ve been making headway with him.”

“Have you talked to him about what Sadusky said?”

“Wasn’t that your job?” She glared at him. “Yes, I did. He says he wants them to make sure we’re not attacked because we’re housing him. He’s more worried about our safety than his own.”

“Yeah, that’s Riley for you. Opposite of what you first see and come to expect. By the way,” he smiled as he sat facing her, “he wanted you to know that he’s independent.”

“He is,” she said. “Oh, can you get the pepper spray for him when you go grocery shopping?”

“Yes, but it’s your turn to do the shopping.”

“I promised Riley I would be here when he wakes up.” She dropped her gaze to her mug and refused to raise it.

“Is that what you talked about in the car?”

“No, it’s what I promised this morning when he woke up and I was in the bathroom. Ben, he’s scared we’re going to abandon him because of this.”

“What did you tell him?” Again, Ben was graced with a glare. “I just want to present a united front with him. He’s sort of like a child sometimes.”

Abigail handed him a piece of paper from her pocket in lieu of actually speaking. It was a shopping list with pepper spray written in big, blocky letters.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Call if you need me sooner.”

“Bye,” she said. She stood up, putting her mug in the sink before disappearing into the hallway leading back to the second living room.

Ben shook his head. He couldn’t help but feel he was missing something enormous with both Abigail and Riley, but he didn’t know how to recognize what it was he was missing.

He grabbed his car keys and locked the front door after himself. An hour. His stomach flipped a little. He’d be back in an hour and then he could talk to Abigail again.

One hour.

~ * ~

Ben wandered up and down the aisles, searching unsuccessfully for the pepper spray. He had just given up hope of ever finding it and searching instead for an employee to complain to when a hand suddenly dropped onto his shoulder.

To his credit, Ben didn’t jump, but he still spun around quickly, pinning his would-be attacker with a very stern glare.

“Mr. Gates,” Dr. Sanjova said, head inclining in acknowledgement. “I thought that was you.”

“Dr. Sanjova,” Ben replied. “How are you?”

“I am well, and yourself?” Ben nodded. “And Mr. Poole?” Sanjova glanced around as if Ben had Riley shoved behind one of the shelves.

“He’s resting,” Ben said, puzzled by the disappointment he saw flash across the doctor’s face. “He’s doing much better now, though. Probably be back on his feet inside of a week.”

“Good, good,” Sanjova said, but his tone suggested anything but, and he reached behind Ben to grab something off the shelf. “Do you know the pain of protection, Mr. Gates?”

Before Ben could respond, fire splashed in his eyes, and he dropped to his knees, a startled yell mixing with deeper grunts of pain. Blinded, he lashed out, fist smashing against Sanjova’s leg. Sanjova kicked him. Struggling forward, he rammed his shoulder against Sanjova’s leg, and this time Sanjova fell. Ben began slapping at what he could feel of the doctor’s clothes, all the while blinking through the tears streaming down his face.

“Nine-one-one!” someone screamed. “Somebody get nine-one-one down here now!”

“Hold still, sir,” someone else said, and Ben was jerked away from Sanjova’s flailing limbs. Then blessed coolness washed over his eyes, and he was able to crack his eyes open. Blurry images, concerned faces with streaks of light marring their features met his roving eyes, and he saw a young clerk with a water bottle kneeling next to him.

“Thanks,” he managed to gasp out, breathless from his brief clash with Sanjova. “Don’t let him get away.”

“Sir, you’re both going to be restrained,” said another person, an older woman with graying auburn hair gathered into a messy bun on top of her head. “I’m Officer Pannock. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

She didn’t have a uniform, so Ben guessed she was off-duty. “Um,” he said, thinking about what had just happened and how best to explain it. “He attacked me. Sprayed me with something. I think he attacked my friend earlier, poisoned him.”

“What makes you say that?” Pannock said, and Ben was thankful for her solid grip on Sanjova’s shoulder because the doctor was still trying to sidle away.

“He was the responding doctor for my friend, before the hospital assigned another doctor. Also, before he sprayed me, he asked if I knew the price of protection.”

“Sir, did you intentionally poison his friend?” Pannock shook Sanjova when he failed to respond. “Sir?”

“Doctor,” Sanjova finally said. “It’s true that I was treating his friend, and yes, that I was asked to concede his treatment to another doctor, but it is untrue that I was the one who poisoned him.”

“Why did you attack this man?”

“He provoked me.” Sanjova shrugged as best he could with Pannock still squeezing his shoulder. “You heard him, he believes I injured his friend. I was simply protecting myself from his attacks.”

“I didn’t touch you until after you sprayed me,” Ben said. He made his voice calm, but he felt like yelling. Also, his eyes were still watering and it hurt to blink.

“Benjamin Gates,” a familiar voice said, and Ben turned to see a blurry Sadusky staring him down. “Care to explain?”

“He attacked me.” Ben pointed at Sanjova just to be absolutely clear. “He also poisoned Riley. I’m certain of it.”

“Do you have evidence?” Sadusky said, and Ben shook his head.

“No, not yet.”

“And you’re not going to get any evidence because you’re not going to muck up any investigations into your allegations, are you?” Sadusky raised an eyebrow and pinned Ben with a sharp glare.

“No,” Ben conceded softly, backing up so Sadusky could pass in front of him. Another agent, Hendricks, if Ben recalled correctly, moved with him, handcuffs already out.

“Dr. Robert Sanjova, you are under arrest.” Sanjova stayed silent while he was cuffed and dragged away.

Pannock turned her attention to Ben when the FBI and Sanjova disappeared. “You’ll need to see a doctor about your eyes,” she said softly. “I guess Sanjova is a bad guy, huh?”

“If you could see Riley,” Ben sighed. “I don’t think I should be driving.”

“I’ll take you.”

Ben let her lead him to her car, a nice bluish-green blob, and he settled in for the relatively short drive to the same emergency room they’d taken Riley to yesterday.

“Thank you,” he said when he climbed out.

“I’ll hang around and take you back to your vehicle when you get cleared,” she said. He simply nodded, not really caring if he had company right now.

Three hours later, once his eyes had been thoroughly flushed and he’d been prescribed an over-the-counter painkiller, he thanked her for driving him home instead of back to the store.

“Not a problem,” Pannock said.

“Ben?” Abigail called from the door, watching as Pannock drove away and Ben made his way up the steps. “Riley got worse. I tried to call you, but you weren’t answering your phone.”

Ben patted his pockets for a moment before realizing the small phone must have fallen out during his fight with Sanjova.

“Riley’s doctor attacked me. I have to give a statement to Sadusky, my car is still at the store, and so is my phone, and I didn’t get any groceries.”

“Okay,” she said, tugging on his arm and pulling him to the second living room where Riley was still curled on the couch, except now he was clutching an old pail. “Just help me get him to my car and we’ll go back to the hospital.”

“Is he just nauseous, or is there something else wrong too?”

Riley perked up a little at the sound of Ben’s voice, and he fixed a bleary gaze on Ben. “What happened to you?” he said before gagging a little and tucking his face back into the pail.

“Sanjova,” Ben said.

“Oh, I hate that guy.”

“You hate a lot of people.” Ben pressed his hand to Riley’s forehead. “Not warm. Did they say you’d have relapses?”

“I told Abigail that it was normal, that it’s from the Prussian Blue, but she doesn’t believe me.”

“Riley,” Abigail growled, and if Riley’s being Riley, Ben knew why she was so upset, “you’ve only had one dose, and it was yesterday afternoon. This is not a side effect of the Prussian Blue.”

Riley answered her by retching again.

“Enough,” Ben said. He scooped Riley onto his feet and held him steady while Abigail opened doors and started the car for them.

“Is Abigail driving?” Riley asked, and Ben realized he’d closed his eyes. “She’s not as crazy as you,” he commented, poking Ben’s chest.

“Just you wait,” he warned, patting Riley’s shoulder as Abigail accelerated.

“We’re here,” Abigail announced a short time later, and Ben dragged Riley out of the backseat. They made their way inside and picked a small grouping of chairs away from the rest of the patients in the ER.

“I forgot his medical history again,” Ben said when the nurse handed him the clipboard. “Can’t you just look it up?”

“One of our doctors was fired yesterday for spiking medication. He stole a number of records, including Mr. Poole’s.” She looked bored and apologetic, and her face scared Ben.

“Do you know which medication he was spiking?”

“No. We had to change our entire stock. We’re a little short-handed right now.”

“Ben, I’ll get the file again,” Abigail said suddenly, tugging on his sleeve. “You stay with Riley and make sure he doesn’t freak out.”

“I heard that,” Riley protested weakly. Ben studied him for a long moment, taking in his crooked beanie still stuck on his head, his oversized button-up and coat and his slippers. And the way he slumped in his chair, one arm wrapped around his midsection, the other wrapped around the bucket. Then, he sat down next to him and let him lean his forehead on his shoulder.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, and Riley snorted.

By the time Abigail returned with the file, Riley was asleep.

Ben nudged him onto her shoulder as soon as she sat down, and Abigail shot him an annoyed look. He ignored her.

Once the forms were filled out, the nurse led them back to a room where Riley, barely awake and leaning on Abigail, curled up on the bed. Ben waved Abigail back into the waiting room.

“Wake up, Riley,” he said, gently shaking him.

“I’m up,” Riley said.

“Good.”

“The doctor will be in shortly,” the nurse said, and she left them alone.

“Ben? Sit with me?” Riley’s voice was quiet and small, and he shivered slightly as Ben pulled himself onto the bed with him.

“I’ll wake you again when the doctor’s here,” Ben promised, and Riley smiled.

“Thanks,” he said, already on his way back to sleep.

Ben closed his eyes too. It hadn’t been a good day. Not a good day at all.

~ * ~


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this chapter is medically unsound. I will try to fix it to be more accurate after the story is complete, but for now, let it be known that I am not and have never been in the medical field. I apologize if the inaccuracies are too jarring.

~ * ~

Riley slept for maybe half an hour, and then he jerked awake, a half-yell escaping as he kicked Ben’s leg. Ben woke up too and managed not to fall off the bed. Then they sat in silence, Riley giving Ben little sheepish grins when he noticed Ben looking at him.

Riley swung his legs back and forth. He’d always been smaller than the people he’d gone on treasure hunts with. Even Abigail in heels was taller than him. Still, he felt exam room beds were insulting to everyone, regardless of height, because Ben was sitting next to him, and his legs were swinging in open air too.

“Amazing, huh?” he commented, and Ben turned a distracted eye to him. “We’re about six inches apart, but this thing makes us both into little kids.” He kicked out his leg to emphasize his point, and Ben gave him a smile.

“Riley, I’m convinced you never fully grew up.”

“Didn’t fool you, eh?” He smiled too, patting Ben’s arm comfortingly. “I’m sure they’ll give you a lollipop if you ask nicely.”

Ben snorted, using his shoulder to bump Riley gently, and Riley retaliated. Their shoving match was interrupted by the doctor, a tall woman with long black hair in a single braid down her back. “Gentlemen,” she said, a folder in each hand and an expression that might have frozen less impervious people. “I hear you’re back in for misbehaving,” she said to Riley. “And I don’t know what you were thinking, Mr. Gates, but using pepper spray on yourself as a means of entertainment is highly frowned upon in intelligent company.”

“You did what?” Riley turned to Ben, eyebrows raised. “Even I’m not clumsy enough to accidently spray myself with pepper spray.”

“I didn’t spray myself,” Ben sighed. “Sanjova grabbed it from me and used it before I could close my eyes.”

“You’re not blind, are you?” Riley waved a hand in front of Ben’s face, and Ben grabbed his wrist.

“I’m fine,” he said grumpily. “I’ve been treated,” he said pointedly to the doctor, and she nodded like she believed him, and okay, yeah, Ben’s eyes weren’t irritated, just a little red.

“Sorry,” Riley mumbled. “So, why are you here?”

“To support you.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Mr. Gates, I must ask you to leave for a few moments while I examine Mr. Poole. Some of the areas are, ahem, sensitive.”

“I’ve seen him naked before,” Ben said. Riley felt heat rising in his face. He’d forgotten about the shower yesterday. “Besides, I think he’d really appreciate someone with his best interest at heart to be present. We haven’t had the best of luck with doctors recently.”

“Make it noted that I do not approve,” the doctor said, arms crossed and glaring.

“Noted,” Ben said, and his tone dipped into icy. “Now, please.” He waved at Riley while hopping down from the bed and settling into one of the chairs that was next to the doctor’s station.

“Undress,” the doctor said simply, pulling the curtain mostly closed so only she could see him. Ben cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. She held out a crinkly blanket and let Riley wrap it around his waist when he was completely naked. “Now, on the table.” She handed Ben his clothes and snapped on a pair of gloves.

Riley climbed back on the bed, wincing as the cold of the material—paper and fake leather—soaked into him. Ben opened the curtain, a look of worry in his eyes that didn’t ease once he could see Riley for himself.

“You need to stop running into things you’re allergic to,” he remarked. The doctor stepped close, forcing Ben back, and started swabbing Riley’s rash-covered chest. She placed each swab in a tube and labeled it before instructing him to drop the blanket.

Riley shot Ben a look, unsure if he wanted his friend to see this or not. Ben shook his head and crossed his arms but did not turn away. Riley sighed and let the blanket fall away. The doctor pushed him backwards until he was lying down.

The entire time the doctor swabbed him, he kept his gaze firmly locked on the ceiling, watching the holographic light tiles change slightly as his body shook from the cold of the room.

“Riley,” Ben spoke up after a few moments, “how do you feel?”

“Cold,” he said. “Also, the rash still hurts.”

“Does it hurt when I touch it?” the doctor asked, purposefully swabbing right next to his groin. Riley flinched.

“I’ll report you,” Ben threatened, and Riley moved his head until he could see him.

“It’s okay, Ben. She’s just doing her job. You’re the one that wanted to stay.” Then he swore softly as the next swab dragged directly over his scrotum and the resulting flare of pain was a bit more than he was used to.

“Enough,” Ben said, stepping between the doctor and Riley. “You’ve got plenty of samples. You do not need to do this anymore.” She snorted, but she gathered her supplies and left the room quickly.

“I want to get dressed again,” Riley said, unsure what he should be feeling right now, if it _was_ supposed to be the growing sensation that something was wrong. “Ben, please. Get me out of here.”

Ben stepped closer and started pulling on articles of Riley’s clothing. Riley held his breath when the material rubbed against his rash. “Hurts,” he said. “How’d it get so bad?”

“It’s that damn couch.” Ben shook his head, his eyes flashing in anger or annoyance, but Riley was sure it wasn’t directed at him. “Let’s go.” Ben helped him up. They moved slowly, and Riley leaned hard on Ben. He had no energy and he still felt really cold. “Should I be carrying you?” Ben laughed softly, his breath puffing against Riley’s ear, and Riley nodded, stopping and turning to Ben so he would pick him up. “Riley? I was joking.”

“I know,” Riley said, surprised to find tears already on his face when he went to rub them out of his eyes. He’d had enough, and he was just so tired, plus that old ache in his bones was back. Ben scooped him up bridal style. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, wondering what his weight was doing to Ben’s back. Ben just grunted in response.

“Not your fault.”

“I should have just said yes. It would have saved everyone so much trouble.”

Ben didn’t answer, and Riley tried to angle his head to see his face, but his head was pounding and his stomach flipped as the nausea returned. “Put me down,” he said, struggling when Ben didn’t obey. “Hey, I need to throw up.”

Ben set him down quickly, leaning him forward and away from their feet. The movement triggered Riley’s gagging, and he vomited, expelling acid, bile, and remnants of the soup he’d manage to eat for Abigail before his nausea got too bad. He coughed as bits stuck in his throat and burned.

“Stop,” a voice ordered. Riley glanced up to see one of the hospital’s security officers advancing on them, a taser out and pointed at Ben. “You are kidnapping a patient.”

“I’m helping my friend,” Ben replied, an edge in his voice. He stared down the man who was easily twenty years older than him. “This hospital has been nothing but trouble for my friend. So, you’ll excuse me if I move him to another one that maybe won’t try to traumatize him.”

“Sir, you are in violation of our policy,” the man refused to back down, and Riley sighed, moving back until he could rest against the wall. He realized there were several nurses staring at them, and he offered a wan smile and wave. One of the nurses broke away from the others and approached him. It was the one from his hospital room, the one who checked on him often.

“Hey, Riley,” she said softly, using a gloved hand to wipe a cloth over his sweaty face. “What are you doing?”

“I need to get out of here. Tell that guard to let Ben go. He’s not doing anything wrong.” She smiled sadly and shook her head.

“Something’s wrong with you, Riley.”

“I know that. My rash is irritated again. Ben says it was the couch, but I haven’t been near it. Also, I still haven’t gotten my energy back.” He swayed on his feet as she tugged him away from the wall. “Please, just let us go. I want to go. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Riley,” Ben said, and he could hear the strain in his voice. “I’m sorry, buddy. We’re going to have to stay. You’re not doing well, and there’s blood in your vomit again.”

“Ben, I’m tired.” He reached blindly, surprised that his eyes were closed, and had apparently been for a while. Ben lifted him again, grunting softly again.

“Lead on,” Ben said, and it was the last thing Riley heard before he passed out, his body going limp.

~ * ~

There were some magazines, and Abigail tried to read them, but her mind kept slipping back to Riley’s condition. He had eaten very little of the chicken soup she’d made, a recipe of her mom’s, and then he’d promptly thrown it all back up.

Her watch seemed broken, and every time she looked at it, the seconds ticked past even slower. Several other women, sympathetic mothers waiting on accident-prone sons, all glared at her every twenty minutes when she paced.

Finally, nearly two hours after first arriving, Ben stumbled in from outside. She noticed his haggard face and automatically assumed the worst. Tears filled her eyes, and she scrubbed at them.

Ben looked genuinely surprised to see her crying. “What’s wrong?” he said, a hand halfway raised to help her dry her eyes.

“Where’s Riley? Is he okay?”

“You were right,” he sighed, leading her back to her chair. “He’s been poisoned again. They think it was something he ingested.”

“So, it was the Prussian Blue?”

“What do you mean?”

“Riley told me Sanjova and a nurse gave him those pills. He hasn’t had anything except his antihistamine medicine.”

She waited patiently while he ran through each scenario in his mind. “It’s the Prussian Blue,” he finally said. “Sanjova hates him whereas the other doctor, Solina, doesn’t.”

“So, what? Riley has to take more Prussian Blue?”

“Not from here. We need to get him transferred to a better equipped hospital, one without so many doctors who hate their patients.”

“I don’t think it’s the doctors who hate their patients,” Sadusky said.

Abigail glared at him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. Yes, she had convinced Riley he needed FBI protection, but Riley had also taken the time to explain that if he was being targeted, the FBI would use him as bait to catch the people doing it. Riley was full of conspiracy theories, and without the right amount of sleep, he was convincing.

“I called him,” Ben said. “Abigail, Riley needs protective custody. Sanjova attacked me earlier, and what’s to stop him or his cell of terroristic people from coming after him again? We don’t own guns. Hell, we barely have time to keep running Riley to the hospital.”

“What makes you sure Sanjova has a cell?” Abigail looked at Sadusky, catching the guilty look he flashed Ben. “You told him. And, what, you couldn’t be bothered to tell me? What about Riley? Were you going to tell him at all, or were you going to just pretend you know what’s best for him?”

“Abigail,” Ben said, sighing in his sad, you’ve-greatly-misjudged-my-intentions voice, and she raised her hand to stop him.

“I don’t care about your answer. You want to know why, Ben? Because your answer won’t matter. You won’t tell me the truth either way, and you certainly won’t tell Riley the truth. In fact, I think you should stay away from him for a little while. Goodbye.” She marched away, trying and failing to block out Sadusky’s “Problems?” and Ben’s quiet little huff of agreement.

She slipped past the nurse by making a gesture toward the bathroom and then sneaking into the hallway behind the second door.

By peeking at clipboards hung on doors, Abigail was able to locate Riley’s room, and she sat at his bedside. He was pale, and he had a nasal cannula stuck to his nose. His IV was already half-empty. His beanie lay discarded on a side table, his clothes folded neatly inside a plastic grocery sack.

She grabbed his hand, running her thumb over the back of it, tracing an invisible line.

“Riley,” she said softly, pressing a small kiss to his cold hand, tears blurring her vision. “Hey, wake up. Please?”

He didn’t move, and a single tear rolled down her face.

“Sadusky’s here. He says you’ve got to have protective custody whether you like it or not.” She gently set his hand down and smoothed his blanket. “You’d probably say you’re contagious right now and quit touching you.”

“Abigail,” Ben said from the doorway. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about calling Sadusky.”

“It’s not that,” she said.

“Then what is it?”

“It doesn’t matter so much right now. I’ll tell you later. Right now Riley needs me.”

“Riley’s sleeping. The doctors said he’d sleep for a day or so. We can go home for now.”

“Ben!”

“What?” Ben actually looked unconcerned.

“Riley!” she said, jabbing a thumb towards the still figure. “Is in the hospital. Again! Don’t you even care?”

“Of course I do, you know I do. But, Abigail, you’ve got to rest too, and I don’t think the nurses will let you stay here tonight.”

“Is he contagious?”

“What? No, I don’t think so.”

“Then I’m staying. And when Riley is released, I’ll stay with him at his apartment. You can go talk to Sadusky now. Goodbye.”

“Abigail.”

“No,” she said, and she pointed at the door he’d left open, “go.”

“Fine,” he said, and he sent a you’ve-hurt-me look at her.

“Oh, I did not!” She shooed him away like a fly, and he went. She picked up Riley’s hand again, entwining their fingers together.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but right now, “Bill” had more appeal than “Paul Brown” despite the differences in their compatibility with her. And, Ben wasn’t helping himself by his cavalier approach to his friend’s illness.

It was possible, she decided, entirely too possible and surprisingly frightening, that she was falling completely out of love with Ben and into love with Riley. It wasn’t a new idea. Not since before Cibola, anyway.

She reached for the beanie and tugged it onto Riley’s head without letting go of his hand. He still didn’t move, but she felt his hand tense and relax just a little.

“Good night, Riley,” she whispered. “I’ll be waiting for you when you wake up.”

~ * ~

“Dad,” Ben said for the tenth time.

“What?” Patrick said, and maybe it was Ben’s imagination, but his father seemed as short on patience as he was.

“You haven’t said anything to me this entire trip. All you’ve done is shoot me angry glares and dirty looks.”

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re messing up the best relationship you’ve ever had. I like Abigail, Ben. I was looking forward to having her as a daughter-in-law.”

“Just drive,” Ben said sullenly. He knew something was happening with Abigail; she was far too snappish at him recently, and it seemed as if she only cared about Riley right now. She hadn’t even asked him if he’d been okay from Sanjova’s attack.

“We’re here,” Patrick said, and indeed, they were just pulling up to the J. Edgar Hoover Building.

“Thanks,” Ben said, unbuckling quickly and slipping out of the car.

“Ben,” Patrick called before he could shut the door. “Why couldn’t you drive yourself?”

“I left the car with Abigail. She’s at Sibley with Riley again. He was poisoned again.”

“Is he all right?”

Ben narrowed his eyes at his father, the man who couldn’t be bothered to even talk to the kid when he was healthy, and now he was concerned? “Yeah, he’s fine. They just wanted to keep him overnight, and Abigail decided to stay with him. Again.”

“Again?” Patrick looked confused, but he was silent, and Ben took the opportunity to slam the door.

He jogged up the front steps, slipping through the crowded entrance where a security guard in full dress stopped him and directed him to empty his pockets. Ben complied, but he was running on autopilot. He was still thinking of the meaning of Abigail staying with Riley when he was led to Sadusky’s office.

“Shall we?” Sadusky said before Ben could do more than stare at the mementos covering Sadusky’s desk. He then showed Ben to an interrogation room, indicating that Ben should choose a chair.

Ben sat down in the interrogator’s seat, staring down Sadusky. At least he wasn’t handcuffed to the table this time. “I want to know what you’re doing to protect Riley.”

“Mr. Poole is going to be moved to a secure facility. Ben, I don’t have to tell you: he was poisoned again. The only reason the reaction was so immediate is because he’s still recovering from the first time.”

“You’ve caught Sanjova. Is Riley really still in danger then? Do you know why he’s being targeted?”

“It’s an organization, of which Sanjova is a major leader.” Sadusky sighed. “Ben, this isn’t a treasure. It’s not your area of expertise. In fact, it’s probably because you’ve been looking after him that Riley’s still in danger.”

“So, you’re ordering me to stop.” Ben leaned forward, searching Sadusky’s eyes for a clue, anything to help him figure out what the agent wasn’t saying. “Is that why you’re moving Riley to a secure facility?”

“I’m telling you that if you pursue this, Riley Poole will die.”

Ben sat back. “It’ll be my fault if he’s killed?”

“They can find Riley because of you. All they have to do is follow you. Always, Ben, always, you’ve led them to Riley. Before he met you, Riley didn’t exist. He took very special care after his time at the Graves to make certain no one could find him. Suddenly, after your treasure hunt, he’s nearly world-famous.”

“He’s the one who wrote his book.”

“And you’re the one who insisted he get special recognition for helping to find the Templar’s Treasure.”

“I can be careful.” Ben shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable enough position to use his pleading skills on Sadusky. Not that he thought they’d do any good, but he had to at least try.

“Ben, no,” Sadusky said. “We are not disclosing his location to you. Not until we can absolutely ascertain that he is safe.”

“But you can’t. No one will ever know when he has no more people trying to kill him.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re asking me to give up my best friend, to stop trying to help him, and to let you, what? Put him in witness protection?”

“You and I both know Riley will never be safe even in witness protection,” Sadusky said, and Ben heard the truth his voice. “Ben, Riley is going into the CIA. He won’t be a field operative, I can promise you that, but he will be the one who pulls the strings, the one who helps the CIA on special missions.”

Ben stayed quiet, mulling over the fact that he was indeed losing his best friend, and to the one thing Riley had ever said no to the entire time Ben had known him.

“Ben, you can’t help him. He’s not your treasure anymore. He can’t be yours anymore.”

“All right,” Ben said, and he stood up, offering his hand to Sadusky for a quick shake. “I guess I don’t even get to tell him goodbye. Let him know how much we loved him, make sure he understands we’re good.”

Sadusky nodded, and Ben hurried out, trying to blink back tears he hadn’t cried since the night after his grandfather’s funeral.

The sky outside was too bright. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to have a beautiful, sunny day when Riley wasn’t standing next to him, making some comment that was either funny or sarcastic or both.

“I’ll miss you, Riley,” he said, squaring his shoulders and marching to the street where his father was waiting with the car. “Drive,” he said, slamming the door harder than he’d meant. Patrick said nothing, his mouth a thin line, and his eyes angry.

Ben explained what the FBI was doing, only to hear himself reject half a dozen ideas to derail the plans. And then he fell silent, letting Patrick give him a few sad looks.

“We will save him,” Patrick finally said when they were a few miles from the FBI headquarters. “Nothing’s going to stop us from getting him back.”

“Except we need Riley to break himself out, and I don’t think that’s happening. Not in the condition he was in.” Ben shuddered, remembering how listless Riley had been the last time he’d seen him at the hospital. “You didn’t see him, Dad,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. “He never even woke up.”

“Ben, I know I said he wasn’t a treasure,” Patrick started, and Ben interrupted him with a snort.

“Sadusky said the same thing.”

“Thing is,” Patrick continued. “I was wrong. Riley is a treasure, one of the best. A friend. Never had too many of those, did you?”

“We need to meet up with Abigail. She might have an idea we can use.”

“Right. Good. It’ll turn out okay.”

“Status quo,” Ben said and settled back into his seat to rest.

“Status quo, son, status quo.”

~ * ~

Riley woke with a gasp, and Abigail was right there. “I dreamed Sadusky sent people after us.”

“That’s not so far from the truth,” she said. “Look, an agent stopped by just a bit ago. As soon as you’re awake, they’re taking you to a safe house.”

“What if I don’t want to go?”

“Then you put on your clothes now and you come with me.” He shot her a puzzled look, and she dropped a bag of clothing on his chest—a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Hurry up, Riley.”

“But,” he said, “I thought you were joking.”

“I’m not,” she said, and he noticed the fear and anger scrunching her face into a tight mask. “Now, do it or I’ll do it for you.”

He complied, tugging the gown off and slipping his shirt on. Abigail had already removed his IV line, and he scratched at the bandage she’d covered the hole with while he contemplated exactly how, since his energy was wavering now, he was supposed to put on his pants.

“Riley?” she said, hands already tugging the material over his legs and hips. She refused to look at his face, but that was okay, Riley knew he was turning red. It was one thing to have Ben help him when he was naked, but it was another thing entirely with Abigail. At least she seemed to be returning to her bossy self as she gathered the rest of his things—a coat she draped over his shoulders, the beanie she plopped on his head, and his shoes stuck on his feet without being tied.

“I’ve got a wheelchair,” she said, thrusting an arm under his, wrapping it around his waist. He hobbled with her to the door, noticing belatedly, that she’d shut off the heart monitor. “We’ve got to leave now.”

“What’s with the schedule?” he asked, settling carefully into the wheelchair, and closing his eyes against the rush of nausea her sudden push caused.

“I told the agent he needed to get a doctor to oversee your removal from the room.”

“That wouldn’t take very long,” Riley agreed, although he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. “Abigail, where are we going?”

“I’ll tell you once we’re in the car,” she said. Her determined pace brought them to the front of the hospital where Connor, the White House curator, was waiting with Abigail’s car.

“The agent just called for backup,” Connor said to Abigail as he helped her lift Riley into the backseat. Then, Connor folded the wheelchair and shoved it in next to him while Abigail got into the driver’s seat. “Be careful,” Connor said, and Abigail pulled away from the curb.

“Go to sleep, Riley. We’re not going to be able to go to where we need to be for a while.”

“You said you’d tell me,” he reminded her.

“Your apartment,” she said, and he nodded. “Now, rest.”

He wanted to stay awake and talk to her, but he felt himself slipping away. “Sing to me, Abi,” he said, just to hear her voice as he drifted off.

When he opened his eyes, they were parked near the Little Falls turn off, across the Potomac River.

Abigail was sitting silently, head back, eyes closed. He watched her breathe for a few minutes, feeling guilty about the dark smudges under her eyes and the drawn pinch of her face.

“I’m awake,” she said, without opening her eyes. “Stop staring.”

“Why are we at the river?”

“It’s not the river.”

“It’s _a_ river. Why are we at it?”

“You called me ‘Abi.’ No one has called me that in years.”

“I’m sorry.” He shifted in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position again, bumping into the wheelchair as he moved. “Was the FBI going to arrest me at all?”

“No, they just wanted to stick you in a safe house. Why are you sorry?”

“No reason, just am.”

“It was a little surprising,” she said, turning to him. “My sister used to call me that before she got mad and stopped speaking to me.”

“Oh,” Riley said. He knew about angry siblings. He knew not to ask her any more too, so that left her boyfriend, who definitely wasn’t with them right now. “What about Ben?”

“What about him?” She started the car, reversing quickly and merging back onto Clara Barton Parkway. “Do you honestly want him sighing at you while you recover?”

Her hands were clenched tightly on the wheel, and Riley sensed her anger. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut the rest of the ride to his apartment.

“So,” she said once she’d turned off the engine, turning to him with a brittle smile. “So, what do you want to do first?”

“Um, go inside?”

“Okay, we can do that.” She finally really smiled at him, and he was surprised by the change in her face. She left him struggling with his seatbelt while she unlocked his front door and then came back to help him.

A car pulled up next to them, and Riley started. Abigail smiled again, a more real one this time, and then she said, “Connor.”

“Thought you might have been caught,” Connor said, hugging her briefly before reaching in to haul Riley to his feet while Abigail pulled the wheelchair out too. Connor set him down gently, and Riley tried not to feel embarrassed about the fact that he had no energy. Perhaps Abigail had been a bit hasty in their retreat.

“Shit,” Abigail said, “stairs.”

Riley giggled at her exclamation, but Connor just made an _hmm_ sound deep in his throat. Suddenly, Riley was airborne, cradled in Connor’s arms, and he let out a little squeak of fear.

“Thank you, Connor,” Abigail said, and the wheelchair clunked up the stairs after them.

“A little warning next time,” Riley said, “my stomach doesn’t like surprises.”

“Noted.”

Connor set him down on the couch, and Abigail shoved the wheelchair into a corner. “Business?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Bye, Connor,” Riley called, and Connor waved before he left.

“Why doesn’t Ben like him?” Riley asked when Abigail sat down next to him. “He’s really helpful even if he’s still a little in love with you.” She slapped at his arm, and he grinned.

“Seriously, Abigail, are you and Ben fighting?”

“Let it go, Riley.”

“But, I don’t want to have to break into your house again. It’s not fair for Ben to do that to you.”

“Ben does a lot of things that aren’t fair to the people around him,” she said, and he noticed a flush rising in her cheeks. She stood up and began pacing, hands flailing wildly as she kept speaking. “He thinks because he’s right enough of the time when he’s solving his little treasure riddles that he’s always right even when he’s so obviously wrong.”

“Abigail,” Riley said to stop her because now she was almost shouting and he was a little afraid of her. She ignored him.

“He didn’t even have the guts to tell you about the FBI. I had to tell you. He was bringing them straight to you, and that’s why I sent him away. If he wants to be your friend, he damn well better start treating you like a friend or else he won’t have the privilege of being your friend.”

“Abigail,” Riley said again, hand held up to stop her from ranting. “Did you tell Ben to stay away from me?”

“He wouldn’t tell you the truth. He wouldn’t tell me the truth either. His truth is more important than either of us, and I had to let him know.”

“Abigail, you know Ben and I have been friends a good while now. But, you’re my friend too. Tell me what you need me to do so you can be okay.”

“I need you to see him the way I do, just for a little while. See how self-serving he is even in the best interests of other people.”

“I can try that.” Riley yawned then, a big, jaw-popping thing that had his eyes watering even as they tried to close and stay closed.

“Rest now,” Abigail said, draping a blanket over him and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Sing to me?” he asked, and she laughed softly.

“I only know a German lullaby,” she replied, but she sat near his head, fingers resting lightly on his cheek.

“That’s okay, you have such a pretty voice, it’ll be nice.”

In response, she began singing, a soft, crooning sound that helped him drift off quickly.

~ * ~

The line rang three times before he answered, his usual, droll “Ben Gates,” grating on her very frayed nerves.

“Ben,” she said, surprised when her voice didn’t waver. “You weren’t helping him, so I did.”

“What did you do?” He sounded bored, and her anger surged again.

“Ben!”

“What? Abigail, what did you do?”

“I helped Riley escape.”

“You did what?” Now Ben didn’t sound bored. “That’s wonderful! Where is he?”

“No,” she said, “you don’t get to know that. You’re not privy to that information.”

“Abigail, he’s my friend. He was my friend before he was yours.”

“Ben, he was hospitalized and you didn’t care to stay with him. You’re too busy trying to figure out who poisoned him to try to help him now, when he needs you.”

Ben sighed. “Abigail, how is hiding him from Sadusky going to help him any more than what I am doing? At least, I’m trying to prevent this from happening to him again.”

“Don’t you dare make me the bad one,” she said. Her head hurt, the way it almost always did when she argued with Ben. “I’m not the one who hasn’t been there for him. Do you even care that he’s scared, that he can’t live his life right now because someone keeps attacking him?”

“I’m trying to save his life, or did that part escape you?”

“What, because of my tiny mind? Or the fact that you care more about Riley just because you say you do?”

“What are you talking about? Your mind isn’t tiny. If anything, Riley’s mind is tiny.”

“Now you’re insulting Riley? Ben!”

“I’m not insulting him,” Ben sighed. Abigail imagined him rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve stress that she could also feel crawling over her skin.

“Ben, I know you love him in your own way, but right now, it doesn’t seem like it. And, I’m sorry but I can’t let you see him yet.”

“He’s at his apartment, isn’t he?”

“No,” Abigail said, but it was too fast; she could hear the untruth in the word. “Maybe. Ben, what if your phone was bugged?”

“What if yours was too? Abigail, we can’t think like everyone is out to get us.”

“But they are out to get Riley?”

“Riley is more valuable to them than we are.”

“So, they could use us to get to him.”

Ben sighed again. “There’s been no attacks on either of us. Only Riley has suffered physically aside from when Sanjova attacked me.”

“I’m sorry if I didn’t appear to care when you told me about it.”

“It’s fine.” Again, the untruth stared her in the face. “Really,” he continued as if he could feel her guilt over the phone, “I’m fine. You’re right: Riley is the most important thing for us right now. Keeping him safe is something we both have to share. And, yes, I do think limiting his contact is a great idea. It will help us narrow who’s trying to hurt him and present less of an opportunity for them to reach him.”

“Logical, Ben,” Abigail conceded. “Fine. Let me have him for this week. I know how to contact you if I need you.”

“Why do I feel like you won’t need me?”

“Bye, Ben!” She hung up, glad that part of the argument was over. Riley would be easier to convince to give up Ben for a week. He was asleep and hopefully he would remain that way for a while. Connor could bring over groceries and she’d make her mother’s stuffed lasagna pizza.

~ * ~

It took longer to convince his father to turn around than to actually execute his plan.

Patrick worried and whined the whole way back to the J. Edgar Hoover Building. But, the important thing was he stood by Ben’s side, silently, while Ben talked circles around a junior agent’s assistant until the poor woman finally left to find a supervisor.

After that, the information was relatively easy to steal. All Ben had to do was send his father into the busy meeting room with a sandwich to cause an uproar while he slipped into Sadusky’s office and copied their file on Riley to a flash drive.

He was certain Sadusky knew what had happened by the way he glared at them as security escorted them from the building.

“I think we’re officially banned from ever going to the FBI Headquarters again unless we’re being arrested,” Patrick said, and Ben nodded absently.

He glanced back, catching sight of Sadusky watching them from a window. Sadusky saluted him, a two fingered wave Ben interpreted to mean “good luck.”

“Thanks for this, Dad,” he said as they headed towards the grocery store where Ben’s car still sat. “I know how much breaking the law bothers you.”

“Oh, that’s not it,” Patrick said, but Ben could see he seemed a little mollified that Ben had noticed his feelings about the matter.

“What I don’t get is why Abigail’s mad at me again.”

Patrick shook his head, sighing. “Don’t get into it with me, Ben. Abigail has her reasons, especially for spiriting Riley away. My best guess is, buy some flowers, maybe a necklace or some earrings, and wait for her to contact you.”

“What if the flowers die before she calls?”

“Throw them away and buy new ones.” Patrick shrugged, checking his mirrors before slipping off the main road onto the little side streets that could make anyone crazy, even someone used to the mess of Philadelphia. “There isn’t always time to fix what’s wrong, but, Ben, Abigail’s given you enough clues. You’re such a great puzzler, you’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, Dad.” That was all there was to say. Ben couldn’t believe even his father was on Abigail’s side. Then again, during their first break, he’d taken her side. Maybe his father had never been on his side.

Determination and anger set in, and Bed stayed silent the entire time his father six-point-turned around to pull into the lot of the store and then while he edged closer and closer to Ben’s car. Patrick rolled down his window, as if that would help him see that he was nearly three inches from Ben’s bumper when he finally shifted to park.

“Thanks,” Ben finally said, a little short, as he slammed his door.

“Ben,” Patrick started, but Ben ignored him and climbed into his vehicle, cranking the key in the ignition and revving the engine until Patrick got the message to just leave.

On the way back to the house, Ben pulled into a flower stand and bought a large mix of daisies, baby’s breath, and yellow roses. He couldn’t even remember Abigail’s favorite flower.

While he waited for exact change, he dialed a number he had only had to use once before. His contact from before still worked there, so Ben felt a little better about the mess he was about to get in to.

“No, absolutely no one was better than Nathan,” Daniel said to Ben’s query. “However, Paul is up and coming, and might be able to do for you nearly all that Nathan could. That is, if Nathan is completely unavailable to you?”

“He is.” Nathan Hale, Ben remembered was the alias Riley had used at this hacker-for-hire business. “How soon is Paul available?”

“How soon can you get to Tryst?”

“Tryst?” Ben remembered a long forgotten conversation between Abigail and Riley about grad papers involving that word. “It’s a coffee shop?”

“Yes, you do know how to get there, don’t you?”

“Isn’t it where I first met Nathan?”

“Yes.”

“Then I should have no trouble at all.”

“One hour,” Daniel said, and then he was gone, the empty noise a reminder of time passing by.

“One hour,” Ben muttered. One hour was more than enough time to go to Riley’s apartment and make a copy of the flash drive, just in case. In fact, if Ben recalled correctly, Riley lived near the coffee shop.

“One hour,” Ben repeated, already in motion to his car, flowers forgotten in the saleslady’s hand, her reminder dying on her lips. “One hour.”

~ * ~


	5. Five

~ * ~

Sadusky pulled the burner cell phone from under his desk. Using a gentle touch, he pressed in Ben Gate’s telephone number, counting the rings and punctuating each one with a decisive tap on his desktop blotter.

Gates picked up on the fifth ring.

“Benjamin,” Sadusky said quietly, aware his agents were listening closely. “I have a name for you to try: Amir Dansing. A-M-I-R D-A-N-S-I-N-G. He was located at the compound at the same time Mr. Poole was. Perhaps if you shift your focus from your friend to this Mr. Dansing, your results would double.”

“Bullshit,” Ben said, and Sadusky bit back a chuckle at the phrase. “Horsecrap. Anything that says you’re lying.”

“Really? You must be frustrated if your language is taking a turn for the worse. Please, consider all possibilities, including the fact that the surname Dansing is fairly uncommon, and that almost never is it paired with something as ethnic as Amir.”

“So, that’s a clue.” Ben snorted, and Sadusky pulled the phone away from his ear.

“Surprisingly, Benjamin, not everything is riddle waiting to be solved. Sometimes information is straightforward, and it is lost in the insistence that it must be something more.”

“Bullcrap,” Ben mumbled, but he sounded thoughtful, his brain already firing. Sadusky chuckled again, and disconnected the call.

“What?” he said to Johnson’s disapproving stare.

“Nothing, sir,” Johnson replied, his tone implying that something was wrong. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that he was the one who was supposed to keep an eye on the information Gates duplicated.

“In other words,” Sadusky said, trying to hide his smile, “everything.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, don’t worry so much. Despite what you may feel, we are still in control. Everything is going as planned. Gates isn’t a pawn, but he’s one of our game pieces.”

“A rook,” Johnson supplied, “a highly fortified structure entirely capable of self-realization.”

“He’s someone who wants to help his friend. We’re simply letting him occupy his time with something less important but flashing a target for him.”

“Yes, but for how long?” Johnson shook his head. Politely, he shut the door behind him when he left.

“How long, indeed?” Sadusky mused to himself. Hopefully it would be long enough.

~ * ~

Riley was watching TV. Or more specifically, he was using it as background noise while he tried to drop off on his couch.

Abigail had gone in to the National Archives to smooth out some things and schedule vacation time. She hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, but Riley had promised that he wouldn’t do anything more strenuous than sleep. But, he was achy, and it wasn’t letting sleep come easily.

His doorbell sounded, and he groaned. Perhaps Connor was making good on a promise to Abigail by checking up on him.

Climbing to his feet, Riley stumbled to the door, peering out through his peephole. Ben stood there shuffling from foot to foot and distinctly uncomfortable. Then he stuck a key in the lock and opened the door. He looked surprised to see Riley for all of two seconds before pushing past him and grabbing a laptop off the coffee table, setting it on the kitchen table, and poking it on.

 “I need you to find some information for me,” he said.

“Hello, Ben,” Riley said. “Nice weather today. Oh, I’ve been better. Thanks for asking.”

At least Ben looked a little contrite, and he started walking around the kitchen, fingers trailing over surfaces.

Riley turned to his computer, waiting as it cycled through its booting process. Behind him, Ben sighed loudly. “It takes time,” Riley said, a little annoyed at the way Ben kept pacing and breathing on him. As soon as the screen fully loaded, Riley input his three passwords. He paused then, and Ben leaned over his shoulder.

“Can you make it so it doesn’t track us?”

“Always, Ben.” Riley tapped a few keys, opening a secondary screen and typing a string of code while Ben began sighing again. “There. Now, what did you need me to do?”

“Can you make copies of this?” Ben shoved a flash drive into Riley’s hand and dropped an unopened packaged one in his lap at the same time.

“Fine, but I can’t open this.” At Ben’s questioning gaze, Riley held up a trembling hand. “I can type, but I’d rather not have a sharp object in my hand.”

While Ben hunted for the scissors, and Riley gave him unhelpful hints like, “I think I saw them in the bathroom,” Riley palmed the flash drive and used one of his own old ones to copy the files before Ben returned with the opened package. Another few minutes, and Ben had his original and the copied flash drive.

“Before I go, can you do one more thing for me?”

“Depends. Is Abigail going to be mad at me too for what you’ve done?”

“I need you to break into the compound in the Graves. It’s an island off the coast of Boston.”

“I know what it is,” Riley said, his heart fluttering a bit at the reminder that he did indeed know what it was. He’d hoped Ben would never learn of this side of him, but then again, it might be nice to have the brains of Benjamin Gates on his side.

“Can you do it?”

“Of course.” Fingers flying over the keys, Riley accessed the CIA’s database, sorting through the files quickly with a program he’d written the first time he’d ever been to the island. He pulled up the information on Graves and input a few more lines of code. He leaned back as Ben leaned forward, each of them reading the titles of the files stored in this new database. “Anything in particular?” he asked.

“Yes, search for any files related to Amir Dansing. He’s the person we need to know more about.”

“Sounds like an alibi,” Riley remarked, aware of how his heart skipped a beat at the name. Already, he was tweaking the code. Within ten minutes, he had a group of files downloaded onto a flash drive he’d once bought for Ben that Ben had never used. “They’re encrypted,” he said. “I can decode them for you, but it’ll take me a little more time.” Luckily, Ben didn’t seem to notice that he copied the files to his own flash drive too. Sometimes it was nice to have an oblivious person around the tech.

“No, that’s all right,” Ben said, and if Riley didn’t know better, he’d think Ben was guilty and nervous now. “I don’t want to wear you out. You still have a long way to go towards recovery.”

“Ben,” Riley said, “you can’t involve me and then cut me out. Besides, you don’t know any other computer geeks who can decode these files for you.”

“Oh, I have sources,” Ben replied, almost absentmindedly while Riley ejected the flash drives, hiding one in his sweater pocket and handing the other to Ben. “Thank you, Riley. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Riley said, trying to hide the disappointment and fear at Ben’s flippant answer. What if Ben wanted to replace him completely? What if Ben didn’t want him around anymore? He’d already tried to sever their friendship once. “Okay, now, you don’t go getting poisoned with a radioactive isotope,” he joked. “I have it on good authority that it sucks majorly.”

Ben laughed, but the door still swung shut, the lock turning as Ben used his key again.

Riley sighed and put his head down on his arms. He was still exhausted and the ache only seemed to be getting worse, but his curiosity was piqued. After resting for a few more moments, Riley logged out of everything on the computer and set it in a corner with a note stuck to it to remind himself to wipe its memory before using it again. Then he took out the flash drive. He found his backup hacking computer in his bedroom and logged it on. He set up on the bed, the computer on his lap, the flash drive plugged in.

Ben could very well find someone else to decode the files, but that didn’t mean Riley didn’t have to not do it himself. He opened an encryption program he’d written and ran the files through it. Easy peasy, he thought. Each one needed only a few more changes made to the program than the one before, but they were so similarly based that he didn’t have to use any other decoding programs.

He hoped Ben was having as much luck as he was.

~ * ~

As soon as he’d left Riley’s, Ben had realized that he was nearly late for his meeting with the new hacker. He blamed Sadusky’s call, which had distracted him, but made him entirely certain that he could not involve Riley any more than he already had.

Luckily, for him at least, Riley’s love of coffee flavored beverages and free Wi-Fi particles meant he lived only minutes from about seven different coffee joints, including the required Tryst.

A few turns too many, and Ben found himself in front of a building he thought he might never have chance to encounter again.

Tryst hadn’t changed much.

Ben remembered the dark lighting that hid Riley’s washed out face that first day. The walls had been redone slightly, with different tones than he recalled, and the floor was still the same stone pattern he’d tripped over last time.

Ben stomped his feet. Sometimes he couldn’t help his theatrics, and he was rewarded with a few startled looks from the employees that glanced up as he rushed past them, gaining speed as he raced toward a table midway to the back of the lounge. The table Riley’d been at. Thankfully, it was empty, and he dropped into the cushioned seat with a sigh of relief. He was a bit late, but so was the other guy. He couldn’t help but remember that Riley had been waiting for him, pretending it’d only been a few moments when in reality he’d been there at least an hour.

A few moments later, a waiter arrived, and Ben ordered as plain a cup of coffee as he could. And then he ordered the most outrageous latte-frappe-milkshake he could think of.

His drinks were brought back in five minutes by the same waiter, and someone slid into the seat across from him

“I’m Paul,” the man said, hand stuck out in woeful anticipation of contact Ben had no intention of returning. Riley’s warning, although more joke than seriousness made him wary, and he set his mug back on the table without taking more than a careful sip.

“Paul, I’m Ben. I need you to decode these two flash drives. I have a thousand dollars hidden somewhere in this restaurant that I will leave you to find if you complete this task.” It was the same offer he’d made Riley, and Riley had called his bluff. For his part, Paul just nodded.

“My price increases the longer I have to spend on this project,” he warned. He opened a laptop, running a program similar to the one Riley claimed kept the government from seeing what he did.

“Fine,” Ben said, belatedly realizing that Paul was attempting to negotiate more money from him. As he worked, Ben studied him, thinking that although he looked older, he was around Riley’s age with longer, greasy hair and a bad mustache.

While his fingers danced across the keys, Ben couldn’t help but feel that he lacked the gracefulness Riley had, and often Paul had to redo entire lines of code because he kept making mistakes. Riley only erased code if it wouldn’t do what he wanted it to.

 “Hey, man,” Paul said, and Ben turned his attention to the worried face of his new hacker. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten into, but it’s highly encrypted, and I’m going to need outright double the agreed upon price since I have to write codes for each of the encryptions.”

“Fine,” Ben sighed again.

A few moments later, Paul said, “Okay, man, I’m in the first one.”

Ben hurried around the table and stared at the picture the hacker had unlocked. It was as he suspected, especially from Sasdusky’s blatant clues. Amir Dansing was Riley Poole. “How soon can you decode the others?”

“Um,” the man said “I don’t know, man.”

“Ben,” Ben spit out. “My name is Ben.”

“Oh right,” the man said, using a shaking hand to shove his long, greasy hair behind his ear. “I’m Paul.” He offered Ben his hand again to shake and Ben declined again.

“How long, Paul?”

“Maybe four hours, if I don’t take breaks. And I need breaks, man. It keeps me focused.”

Ben thought for a few seconds about what it would have been like to stay with Riley, to let Riley be the one to tell him how long the information would take to decode. But, at another gasp from Paul, and Ben running to see the information, he realized it was a very good thing to have gotten away from Riley before his friend had discovered what Ben was looking at. This was the report of seventeen year-old Riley Poole kidnapped off the streets of Washington D.C. and spirited away to the secret compound in the Graves.

Riley was better off not knowing that Ben was poking around in his past.

~ * ~

The images on the screen were not what Riley had expected. Sure, he’d known what they were digging into, but he hadn’t expected to find himself the target of Ben’s investigation. Did Ben not trust him? Is that why he found a new computer tech?

He poked his phone, trying to decide if he really wanted to call Ben or not. Would it make a difference, he wondered, if Ben explained it to his face or if he lied again? Obviously, Ben didn’t want Riley to know that he was doing this. But why?

Screw it, Riley thought harshly, stabbing at his phone until it dialed Ben’s number.

“Riley,” Ben answered, breathless.

“Hey, just thought I’d let you know what I’ve done,” he said, holding his breath and waiting for Ben’s response.

“What do you mean?” Suspicion, exactly as Riley had suspected.

“Well, I decoded those files you’d wanted. Tell me, did your new hacker do it yet?”

“Riley, there was a reason I didn’t want you to see those.” Ben sighed. And sighed again.

“Well, I’ve seen them. What are you going to do? Wash my brain so I forget?” Riley smirked, listening to Ben mutter angrily. “Now, tell me, has your hacker decoded each and every file yet?”

“No,” Ben finally admitted.

“Aha!” Riley crowed, pleased with himself. “You do still need me!”

“Fine, just let me pay Paul for his service. I’ll be right there.”

“Is his last name Brown?”

“What? No. I don’t know his last name.”

“You trusted a hacker you don’t even know the full name of? How desperate you are!”

“I didn’t even know your real name until you’d worked for us for a month.”

“True. Oh, wait, is his last name Revere? Yeah, that’s Trevor. He’s not as good as I am.”

“Obviously,” Ben said, his tone sounded amused if a bit put out. “I’m sorry if you thought I was cutting you out, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Ben, I’m a big boy, I can handle people not wanting me to know things. But, you do have to admit, it’s a little weird that you’re going through my past. If you really wanted to know anything, you coulda just asked me. The CIA didn’t erase my memory.”

“What did they do to you?”

“I…” Riley looked around his apartment, recalling the milk and wondering exactly how he’d acquired the poisoned container. Had anyone swept for bugs, too? He felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. “Ben, I don’t feel safe.”

“Well, I’m nearly there. Hang on a bit and I’ll be right up.”

“Will you let me open the door this time?”

Ben paused for a long moment, and Riley thought the call might have dropped. Suddenly, gustily, Ben sighed again. “Okay, I deserved that,” he said.

“Yes,” Riley said, punctuating it with a sharp nod that set his headache ringing again, “you did.”

“I’m here. Let me in.” Ben knocked on the door, and Riley dragged himself off his couch and to the door, where he could hear Ben counting quietly.

He was already on twenty-five when Riley managed to undo the lock and throw open the door.

“Why?” he asked, and Ben shook his head.

“Let’s go. You’re not staying here. It’s not safe.” He grabbed the coat still hanging over the back of the couch and wrapped it around Riley’s shoulders. “Come on, you said it yourself, just a bit ago, you don’t feel safe here.”

Riley nodded. He wanted to suggest having Ben gather some of his things but he didn’t want to accidently bring a bug with him if indeed any bugs did exist. “Yeah, let’s go,” he said, trying not to shudder at the thought of the CIA still shadowing him after all these years.

The only things he took with him were the two flash drives and his phone. Inside Ben’s car, he curled in the passenger seat, letting Ben fuss over the seatbelt. He texted Abigail, certain she would be furious that Ben had essentially kidnapped him from his apartment.

“Hey,” he said, a thought crossing his mind almost too quickly to form, “you’re not gonna let Sadusky get me, are you?”

“What?” Ben replied distractedly. He snapped to, turning to Riley. “What? Where did that come from?” Understanding flashed across his face, quickly replaced by anger. “Did Abigail tell you Sadusky was after you?” Riley stayed quiet, but Ben was on a roll. “Did she tell you to avoid me?” he continued.

“Forget it,” Riley muttered, leaning against the window and closing his eyes. Abigail would have taken the hint and left him alone, but Ben’s forte wasn’t leaving people alone, not when he had some big mystery to solve.

“Seriously, Riley, tell me everything Abigail said about Sadusky or me.”

Riley’s phone vibrated, and he cracked an eye to peer down at the screen. Abigail’s message was simple, _I’ll meet you there._

“I’m tired, Ben. I don’t feel like being interrogated.” He closed his eyes and leaned against the window again. “Please, just let me rest.” It was cowardly, but Riley didn’t care. Finally, Ben patted his shoulder and turned on the engine. Riley relaxed just enough to doze off before they’d even pulled out of the parking lot.

~ * ~


	6. Six

~ * ~

Abigail entered a silent house. She checked her phone again, re-reading Riley’s message: _Apartment not safe. Ben’s here._

The coat Ben insisted Riley keep was hanging on the coat rack, but neither man was visible. To be fair, she was still in the foyer and it was hard to see into the rest of the house from the steps.

“I’m here!” she called. No response. Not unusual.

Ben was usually working and Riley wasn’t normally with them. Currently, though, she hoped he was simply asleep and Ben was just busy.

Her phone buzzed, and a glance at the screen showed a new text message from Riley.

_Bed rest. Come see me._

She smiled, tucking the phone away. She found Riley propped up in the guest room’s bed, half a dozen pillows surrounding him, a heavy quilt pulled up to his chest. His hat was crooked, as was his smile. He looked sleepy and rather happy.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, nose buried in one of his many research projects was Ben.

“Hi, Abigail,” Riley chirped, reaching out his hand so she could grasp it. “Ben’s been ignoring me again.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” Ben replied, deliberately licking a finger and using it to turn a page. Abigail winced at his display, but she stayed quiet, not wanting to start an argument with him.

Riley had less compunctions about that, saying, “Ew. Benjamin, what if that page has a disease or a toxin on it? Now you’ve gone and ingested it. I hope your immune system is uncompromised enough to fight off the deadly whatever you’ve just given yourself.”

“Riley, it’s a book. It’s not going to make me sick.”

“Yeah, well, I thought the same thing about my milk, and look how that turned out.”

“Riley,” Ben said, and Abigail held up a hand to stop him. For once, he listened, turning his attention back to his book.

“Listen,” she said, squeezing Riley’s hand and waiting for him to lethargically turn his head so he could look at her, “you’re tired. Us being here isn’t going to help you rest.” She picked up his cell phone and pressed it into the hand she wasn’t holding. “I’m just a text or call away. It doesn’t matter if you just want to let me know you’re going to pee. I’m here for you. But, Riley, you need to rest. You can’t get better if you don’t take time. I know it’s frustrating. Especially because you are so used to being on your own.”

Riley returned the squeeze, and Abigail pretended the weakness in his grip didn’t exist. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Stay a while, just until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.” She climbed onto the bed, settling so he could curl against her side. “Do you want Ben to stay or go?”

Riley blinked at her, mouth opening slack. “Stay, I guess,” he finally said, shrugging as best as he could. Ben was already gone, disappeared during her speech, but Abigail didn’t tell Riley that. He didn’t need to know.

At least Ben had been there when Riley needed him this afternoon.

Speaking of, she searched her texts until she found the second most recent one from Riley.

_Gone with Ben. Think I’ve been bugged. Sorry to disobey._

He was asleep already, hand still tangled with hers, mouth open, breathy gasps as he exhaled.

She decided to give it a few more minutes before calling Conner and Sadusky. Maybe the FBI could help with Riley’s peace of mind.

At last Riley stopped gasping and started snoring. Disentangling herself from him was easier than she thought it would be, and a few moments later, she was outside staring up at a cloud-covered sky, her phone to her ear.

Sadusky answered her call on the fourth ring. He sounded impatient and annoyed. Not entirely unlike the first meeting she’d ever had with him.

“Did you check Riley’s apartment for bugs?” she all but demanded.

“Of course,” he replied, already much calmer and far less annoyed. “We are taking the assault on Riley Poole seriously. He was poisoned after all. Everything in his apartment has been triple-checked and it is safe for him to remain there.”

“Well, he doesn’t feel safe, and right now that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Sadusky sighed, and Abigail fought down the inherent anger that sound ignited. “Can I count on you and Ben to keep him from harm? Of course, agents will assist you should you require it.”

“What about Sanjova? Are you any closer to catching him?”

“I cannot comment on any ongoing investigations.”

It was a non-answer, and one she couldn’t begrudge him. What if she decided to affect vigilante justice on the damned doctor? She had already proven she had no patience for law enforcement when it came to Riley and his wellbeing.

“What I can say,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave or three, “is keep him close. The task I gave Ben is less of an actual job and more of a glimpse into the past of Riley Poole. To better understand why he is being targeted, you must realize, Riley was considered a great asset for this country. That he was able to evade his captors made him all the more valuable. Sanjova is only one of the threats that Riley faces daily.”

He paused and she thought she heard him take a drink of something.

“Is Sanjova the least dangerous of the threats?”

“Not in the slightest. In fact, he may be the most dangerous as he has been the only one to successfully accost Riley in the intervening years. There is something to be said for obscurity.”

“Which was lost when he helped Ben discover the treasures.”

“Exactly.”

He paused again, and she knew what he was thinking: it wasn’t Ben’s fault.

“It really isn’t,” he finally said.

“I know,” she replied. “It doesn’t mean I can’t still be mad at him.”

“The death of a relationship can be painful,” Sadusky said, sipping his drink again. “But, it can also be cathartic. Do not let Ben become your albatross. Even if you hate him with every fiber of your being, do not let it control your actions.”

“Ben and my relationship is not what’s at stake here.” Although, really it was. Ever since the division on how to best care for Riley had come up, she felt Ben was fighting her on every decision. To be fair, he probably felt the same way about her.

“Isn’t it?” Perceptive bastard.

“I’m not sorry I kept him from you,” she said. Sadusky chuckled.

“Neither am I. Riley needs people like you in his life. Just remember, Ben’s on his side too, even if it doesn’t always feel like he is.”

“Stop lecturing me about my relationship!”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Tell them hello and we’ll be in touch.”

“Okay. Goodbye now.” She hung up before he could. The whole conversation left her feeling unsettled and unsatisfied.

Maybe Connor would make her feel better.

He also answered on the fourth ring.

“I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping yet,” he said quietly, and she realized he was still at work. “But I promise I will. Do you want me to meet you at Riley’s apartment?”

“Actually, that’s why I called you,” she said, voice low too, even though she was still outside. “We’re at the house.”

“So you don’t want me to come?”

“I’d actually love to have you over, and I think Riley would be excited to see you.”

“But Ben?”

Screw Ben, she thought. “Come over anyway. If Ben has a problem, he can go visit his dad.”

“Doesn’t his dad live in Philadelphia?”

“So?”

She could hear Connor smile when he said, “Still planning for stuffed lasagna pizza?”

“You know it.” Before he hung up, she blurted, “Thanks for doing this. I know you like me, but—”

“I know. I’m okay being friends. Besides, I met someone. I think you’ll like her.”

“I look forward to meeting her. Just, maybe not tonight. Riley’s been through a lot and he’s a little self-conscious about his hair.”

“And I imagine he’s still tired. It’s quite an ordeal he’s been through. Well, I’ll just pop ‘round about 6:00 or so.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

When she headed back inside, Ben was sitting in the foyer on the top step, his book laid across his lap. He patted the spot next to him, and she sat.

“So, Connor the curator is coming for dinner,” he said, something in his tone suggesting he was trying to be careful and not upset her.

“Yes,” she replied back, just as carefully. “I sort of promised him dinner when he helped me spring Riley from the hospital.”

“Ah,” Ben sighed. He shifted so he was facing her, and she found she couldn’t quite meet his eyes, Sadusky’s advice running through her mind.

He sighed again and turned away. “You’re good with Riley. You make him feel better than I do.”

He sounded sad, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I like being friends with Riley. He’s…funny. Sweet. He reminds me of my sister sometimes.”

She leaned closer until she could gently rest her head on his shoulder. He froze for a moment before relaxing and wrapping his arm around her. “I think sometimes he is the brother I never had.”

They sat, the silence stretching between them. Finally, Ben shook himself, and Abigail straightened.

“Are we breaking up again?” he asked. This time it was her turn to freeze.

_The death of a relationship_ , Sadusky’s voice reminded her, and she found herself nodding.

“I think we’re better as friends than we are as a couple,” she said softly. “I love you, Ben, but I don’t think I have what you need. And, to be honest, I’m not sure if _you_ know what you need.”

“Fair enough,” he said, and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t hear the pain in his voice.

“I love you, Ben,” she reaffirmed. “I don’t want you unhappy. Let’s hold off on any major relationship discussion until we’re through this stretch of woods.”

“Riley really knows how to pick them.”

Abigail nodded. “At least he’s got us.”

“That he does,” Ben agreed. “I’m going to check on him. Let me know if you need any help with things when Connor gets here.”

~ * ~

Nerve-wracking. That’s what this was, Riley thought, leaning closer to the toilet so he wouldn’t accidently splash outside the bowl. He didn’t have enough strength in his arm to brace himself, so he leaned his shoulder against the wall and used his other hand to direct his stream.

In the middle of peeing, Ben burst through the door, startling him. He managed not to urinate on the floor, but he fixed Ben with a steady glare as he finished his business, tucking himself away while Ben looked anywhere but at him.

“The nurse did the same thing,” he said, washing his hands and watching Ben in the mirror. Ben glanced around the room as if searching for her. “She didn’t apologize either. But, that’s her job.”

“Sorry, Riley,” Ben said quietly. “I told Abigail I’d check on you.”

“You’ve checked. I left a note on the pillow and I texted Abigail like she’d said to do. I don’t get why you barged in.”

“Connor is coming for dinner.”

Riley raised an eyebrow. So that’s what it was. Ben was jealous. “They’re just friends,” he said. “Connor even has a new girlfriend.”

“And how would you know that?”

Riley shrugged. It wasn’t important anyway, he thought. He’d met them once for coffee when Connor wanted him to help smooth the introductions with Abigail. Riley had told him she wouldn’t care, she was back with Ben anyway. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Ben and Abigail seemed to be heading for a breakup again, and he felt it was his fault.

“Riley,” Ben said, irritated.

“I’ve met her. She’s nice. Abigail would like her. I think she works in Washington, I mean, Connor is the curator of the White House.”

“Makes sense,” Ben agreed. “Anyway. Connor’s going to be here soon. Maybe you should rest a bit more?”

Riley rolled his eyes. “I’ve done nothing but rest, Ben. If I can’t help in the kitchen, at least let me hang out with you so I feel a little less burdensome.”

“You’re not burdensome at all.”

“Tell me that again when you’re woken up at 3:00 a.m. because I puked too hard.”

Ben’s face dropped into a deeply concerned glare. “You’re not still nauseous, are you?” he queried.

Again, Riley shrugged. “It’s manageable. But, Abigail was planning to make something heavy, wasn’t she? I don’t know how my body will handle it, especially since I’m still feeling out of sorts.”

“Any chance you want to help me with research instead of bothering Abigail?”

“Ben,” Riley snorted. “You didn’t want me to help you earlier. And I don’t think Abigail would think of it as bothering her.”

Ben threw up both his arms and growled. “Make up your damn mind, Riley,” he said. “First you want bed rest, then you don’t. You’re not safe in your apartment even though Sadusky would never have let you go back had you been in any danger. Now, you like Abigail better than me. We’ve been friends longer, why don’t you like me?”

“I do like you,” Riley protested, but even he could hear the half-heartedness with which he said it. “Ben, you’re the one who can’t make up his mind. Do you want me to help you dig into my past or not?”

“Do you want to help me?”

“It’s not a competition between you and Abigail, you know. You’re both friends of mine. I know you were mad at her for taking me from the hospital, and I know she’s mad at you for not seeming to care very much about this whole thing. But, what you both need to realize is you each have different methods of coping.”

“Stop lecturing me, Riley. Just answer my question.”

“Fine. I’ll help you research until dinner is done, but afterward, I want to watch a movie with Abigail. If you can stomach dramedies, you are welcome to join us.”

Ben snorted but he nodded, leading Riley down the hallway towards his office.

~ * ~

Connor was the only one actually eating. Riley watched in interest as he cut his pizza into tiny bites that he then tucked three at a time into his mouth.

He chewed with bulging cheeks, already cutting more pieces to cram into his maw. Wordlessly, Riley passed his single slice to him, watching as it suffered the same fate.

Abigail raised an eyebrow but otherwise remained unmoved. Ben alone winced and hissed at Connor’s treatment of the food.

“This is really good, Abigail.” Conner paused, mouth empty for a brief moment as he smiled at the cook. Then he went back to eating.

“Thank you, Conner,” Abigail said, grimacing into her own slice. Ben threw his hands up and shoved back from the table.

“I’m turning in,” he announced. And then stomped away. Abigail watched him go, a furrow between her brows as she worked through whatever she wanted to say. Riley scraped his fork over his plate, making grease trails. Somewhere in the vicinity of Ben’s office, his door slammed.

Riley sighed. “Abigail, the food is really good. Conner, it’s not your fault Ben is being a butthead. Riley, it’s okay to admit food is scary.”

Abigail smiled at that. “Maybe I should have made a lighter alternative for you?”

“No,” he replied, shrugging. “But I could go for some ice cream, if you have it?”

“Rocky road or plain vanilla?”

“Ooh, hard choice.” He pretended to think it over before saying, “Much as I’d love the rocky road, I think I’m gonna have to go with plain Jane vanilla.”

Conner looked conflicted, staring at his empty plate, his stomach, and then where Abigail had disappeared into the kitchen.

Riley leaned over and stage-whispered, “If you want some of mine, I’ll share. The doctors say I’m not contagious anymore.”

Conner laughed and nodded, settling back into his chair while Abigail returned, two bowls heaped with ice cream balanced in her hands.

She handed one to Riley and the other to Conner.

“I don’t think a movie is a good idea tonight,” she said, watching, as Riley poked at the ice cream with as much enthusiasm as he’d managed for the lasagna-pizza.

Riley agreed, spooning a little of the melting top into his mouth. It seemed okay, so he started eating in earnest. But, he only managed a couple of bites before his stomach decidedly gurgled. He waved off Abigail’s concern, wished Conner a good night, and headed into the guest room’s bathroom to wait out whether the food would reappear from his orifices.

Thankfully, he didn’t vomit or have explosive diarrhea. Disgusting as either would be, he was glad he was able to drink some water, brush his teeth, carefully, and shower all by himself. He was just climbing into bed when Abigail knocked on the door.

“Hey,” she said, “I wanted to say I was turning in now. You’ve got your phone with you. Just shoot me a text or if you need anything at all.”

“Got it. Good night, Abi.”

She smiled, a bit sadly, if he was reading her expression right. “Good night, Riley.” Then she closed the door, leaving him alone again. He turned off the light, turned on his side, and let himself drift off to sleep.

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who read. It is greatly appreciated.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had as much time with this chapter, and so I apologize if it feels rushed or out of place. Un-Beta read. Mistakes are my own.

~ * ~

Sadusky left a voicemail on Ben’s phone detailing, to his great chagrin, the entire process of sweeping Riley’s apartment for bugs. Sadusky even told Ben in detail about how one of the agents had taken apart all the components in the bathroom just to sweep the hidden areas.

Not a single bug was discovered, which Sadusky suspected. He may have a breach in his department, but he hasn’t let anyone he doesn’t trust into Riley’s apartment. Despite the constant accusations that he didn’t care for the retired hacker, Sadusky did like the kid and didn’t wish to see him hurt like this.

He had a team constantly on Sanjova. It was actually in Riley’s best interest to have had Sanjova attack Ben Gates since it meant he was in custody. The agents tasked with watching him, Sadusky’s own team, reported that Sanjova had no less than seven visitors in the short time he’d been incarcerated. All of them claimed to be part of his legal team.

Sadusky didn’t believe them, but as long as they continued to be “lawyers or legal counsel,” there was nothing he could do about it.

He settled back in his chair and studied the Newton’s cradle on the corner of his desk. Perpetual motion with no motion at all. A transference of energy.

Sadusky wasn’t trying to prove anything: he already had all the evidence he needed. He could even charge Sanjova with a domestic terrorist attack since he’d used thallium to poison Riley. What he needed to do was to catch the leak in his office.

He had no doubt that they were connected to Sanjova.

He paged his secretary, waiting a bare minute before she bustled in.

“You rang, sir?”

“Yes. I need all the entrance applications for all the agents in this division. There’s a lot of them.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll have them on your desk inside of an hour.”

“Thank you, Jenny.”

She nodded and left the room again.

Sadusky’s phone rang, and he answered.

“What do you mean you already swept Riley’s apartment for bugs?” Ben demanded. “You said you looked for the source of the radiation, and he was still poisoned again.”

“True,” Sadusky said, “but not because of anything at his apartment. If I recall the report right—” which he did because it was in front of him “—Riley was poisoned again because his doctor dosed his medication.”

Ben remained silent.

“If you’re worried that the FBI knows exactly where Riley Poole is, you shouldn’t be. We are protecting him while we investigate this attack against him.”

“Are you following him?” Ben asked quietly.

“Yes,” Sadusky said simply. “If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be good at our jobs.”

“You haven’t prevented any assaults on Riley,” Ben said.

“There haven’t been any attacks since the initial poisonings. Unless you want to count the misguided attempts at protecting him that you and Ms. Chase have committed.”

Ben’s silence permeated the line. Sadusky checked his watch. He still had forty-five minutes before Jenny would return with the applications. He could wait out Ben and his self-righteous silences.

“Are you going to arrest us?” Ben finally asked.

“Do you honestly not know the answer to that?”

Chastised, Ben said, “Thank you.”

“Now, you called me because you wanted more information about what we did with Riley’s apartment?”

Ben sighed. “I wanted to know why you gave me Riley’s codename from the Graves. Why do you want me to look into it?”

“I didn’t,” Sadusky admitted. “I just needed something to distract you.”

“Distract me? Why?”

“Ben, you’re very good at puzzle solving, but you have an obsession. I knew if I let you run unchecked, you’d end up hindering our investigation into Sanjova and his organization. Besides, don’t you want to know more about Riley’s past? This is your chance.”

“I don’t know. Riley’s past isn’t hidden by him. He just doesn’t talk about it.”

“Ben, haven’t you figured it out yet? Riley Poole isn’t his real name.”

“Amir Dansing is?”

“That is something you’ll have to ask Riley. He’s, what, thirty now? The Graves incident was nearly half his life ago.”

“You’re trying to distract me again,” Ben accused.

“And it’s working,” Sadusky predicted. He looked up to see Jenny pushing a large cart piled high with his requested applications. “Goodbye, Ben.” He hung up before Ben could do more than squawk indignantly in his ear.

Sadusky removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

“Tired, sir?” Jenny asked, placing the first of the applications onto his desk.

“Always, Jenny,” he replied. He straightened, putting his glasses back on his face. “Thank you.”

Dismissed, she left, shutting the door behind her. Sadusky sighed, flipping to the first page in the first application. He glanced again at the cart. The first of nearly seventy. Could be worse.

~ * ~

Ben sank onto the couch, head in his hands. He didn’t want to wake up Riley—he’d only just gotten back to sleep after Abigail woke him up for breakfast. He was aching again and seemed to be fighting nausea.

Sadusky hadn’t done Ben any favors by trying to steer him toward uncovering Riley’s past. He didn’t understand why Sadusky was playing this game with him. He thought of his father’s words, first, “Riley is not a treasure,” and then, “I was wrong. Riley is a treasure, one of the best.”

Maybe that was what Sanjova thought too. After all, the CIA had tried to recruit Riley ever since he was in high school. Maybe Riley really was the treasure, and in finding it, Ben had to unravel his past.

He shook his head. It felt invasive, sitting here, holding the flash drive with all of Riley’s information on it.

Abigail dropped onto the seat next to him. She blew out a breath, fidgeting and tapping her foot. Ben palmed the flash drive into his pocket, turning to give her his full attention—something he was aware he hadn’t been doing for a while now.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. They needed to discuss what they would do if Riley had to stay permanently. They also needed to decide on the direction of their relationship.

He opened his mouth to ask her to marry him and shut it when she said, “I think we should break up.”

He stared at her, unblinking.

All he could think was, “Again?”

Abigail sighed again. “Ben, I love you, and I know you love me too, but we are just not compatible. This crisis with Riley has pointed that out to me. I am sorry, but I think we are better as friends than lovers.”

“I—” He couldn’t even find the words to defend himself. Were they really going to go back to fighting over the furniture while their friend needed their care?

“Ben,” Abigail said, “I need to know that I’m not alone in this. Everyone knows we’re not really good together. Surely you see it too?”

“I do,” he finally said, because that’s what she expected him to say. He could always ask Riley later if he thought he and Abigail shouldn’t be together anymore.

For now, he needed a distraction. He slipped his hand into his pocket, finding the flash drive. He pulled it out, flicking the cap off.

“Do you want to see something?” he asked.

Abigail shook her head. “I have work now,” she said. “Maybe later? Tell Riley I’ll be back after 5:00. Goodbye, Ben.”

She left, the door slamming behind her. Ben stood up, gripping the flash drive tightly. Distraction. Distraction. Distraction.

He slipped into Riley’s room, listening to his friend’s slightly labored breathing. Riley’s laptop was on the night stand. No doubt it wasn’t booted up or logged in. Riley kept all his passwords in his head, claiming that there was too great of a risk of writing it down.

Ben didn’t believe him. Riley had so many passwords, and he changed them frequently, that Ben was positive he had something written down.

He dug into the laptop’s bag, pulling out a slim cigar case. He popped it open, rewarded with a couple strips of paper covered in Riley’s cramped scrawl. The first one was an address. Ben recognized it as the Graves. Why did Riley have this?

The second piece of paper was a phone number. Probably related to the Graves. Ben didn’t want to call it. What if that’s how they kept finding Riley? Through the phones? Riley was always telling him that cell phones would become the government’s greatest asset in locating people.

Finally, at the bottom, Ben discovered what might have been a password. If not, it was just a random string of letters and numbers with a few punctuation marks thrown in for good measure.

Ben took the laptop and the password to his bedroom so that he wouldn’t  wake Riley if the machine made noise.

Within a few minutes, he was in. He plugged in the flash drive, navigating with difficulty to its designation.

Inside were the files that Trevor had decoded. Ben knew Riley had done more, but he was curious and in a hurry, so he made do. Besides, it was plenty of information for now.

Ben opened a file titled Amir.17.jpeg and wasn’t really surprised to see a younger Riley staring out of a photograph. Riley had been scrawny in high school with braces and glasses. He still looked like Riley, only the name under his photo, and the image’s name, was Amir.

Another .jpeg file, this time titled Amir.5, caught his eye. Ben opened it. Instead of a picture of Riley as a child, he was faced with Riley, high school aged again, glasses gone, braces off, a gun to his temple as he stared at something out of frame.

Ben swallowed hard. What was Riley’s past like if this image was in it?

He closed the pictures, blinking rapidly as if that would help dispel the sight of Riley with a gun against his head.

His brain told him to stop digging, to wait until Riley was coherent again, but his heart wanted to know what Riley had gone through, what horrors he’d faced. After all, Riley was one of the most precious treasures Ben had ever encountered.

He opened another image. Amir.19. Riley smiling, dancing at what must be his senior prom. Braces and glasses.

Amir.7. No glasses. No braces. A bruise blooming over one cheek, his left eye swelling shut.

One by one, Ben went through the pictures. Amir-dot-one-through-ten were documentation of Riley’s torture, which included the gun being slammed into his mouth and a scalpel dangled dangerously close to his eyes. Amir-dot-eleven-through-twenty were Riley’s senior high school pictures.

With a lurch in his stomach, Ben realized that Riley needed braces and glasses after his ordeal at the Graves. Why else didn’t he have the braces on in the pictures?

Ben closed the flash drive and ejected it. Then he shut down Riley’s computer.

He didn’t know what to think right now, but he knew he needed to figure out why Sanjova had poisoned Riley. Obviously, it had something to do with Riley’s time at the Graves, but what?

It would have to wait. Ben needed to wake Riley up so that he could drink some fluids. And maybe answer some questions. Ben wasn’t above using whatever state of confusion Riley would be in to find another puzzle piece.

He paused, the laptop tucked under his arm, the flash drive back in his pocket, and the password paper in his hand. What if that’s why Abigail was leaving him again? Because he was always looking for the next puzzle instead of being happy with what he had?

What if he drove Riley away too?

Could he risk that?

He hadn’t really survived losing Abigail the first time. God knew what it would do to him the second time. How could he survive losing both Abigail and Riley over this?

Riley hadn’t told him about the Graves for a reason.

Ben shook his thoughts out. Like it or not, he couldn’t put a good puzzle away once he’d started it. And Riley was perhaps the most intriguing puzzle he’d seen in years. He wanted to be the one to make the breakthrough in the case, Sadusky be damned.

Riley could answer a few questions for him. It wouldn’t hurt him to tell Ben about the things he kept locked away in his mind.

Ben marched into the spare bedroom and set the laptop down with a clatter. He tucked the password back into its case. Then, he leaned over the bed and shook Riley awake.

~ * ~

Riley sat up, lurching for the foot of the bed where he retched until he was able to spit up half-digested cereal and milk.

He didn’t know what had awakened him, and although miserable, was ready to fall back asleep when he noticed a looming shadow next to the bed.

The gurgled shout that escaped him could barely be heard over his pounding heart.

“Relax, Riley, it’s just me,” Ben said.

Riley wanted to smack him. “What do you want?” he asked sourly, still trying to get his racing heart under control. Ben shrugged and pointed at Riley’s laptop. “No.”

“Come on, Riley. I need you to look at something.”

“No,” Riley said, rolling over again. He could smell the vomit, and he wrinkled his nose. “Are you going to clean that up?” he asked Ben. When Ben didn’t answer, Riley rolled back over. Ben was turning on his computer.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You need to see this,” Ben replied distractedly, poking at the keyboard. Riley watched in horror as he entered the correct password on the first try.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded.

“In your bag,” Ben said. He withdrew a flash drive, the one he’d had the hacker try to decode for him, from his pocket and plugged it in. Riley winced. He didn’t have any of his protection running. If there was a bug on the flash drive, it was now on his computer. Based on Ben’s familiarity with his computer, he’d say this was not the first time Ben had done this.

Riley grabbed the laptop from him and began inputting his safety protocols. It wasn’t like it’d do much at this stage, and this laptop would have to be scrapped, refurbished, completely wiped and reset.

He sighed. It was a headache he didn’t want right now, still off-kilter and out of sorts. “Ben, you can’t just take someone’s computer and use it. Even if you find the password,” he added. “Now, what did you want me to see?”

Ben tapped the flash drive. “There’s some pictures on here that I really think you ought to see.”

Riley shot him a skeptical look before navigating to contents of the flash drive. “Amir,” he read. There were several images, each labeled with “Amir” and a number. He clicked on the first one.

And immediately froze.

That was his face. That was his seventeen-year-old face. He only recognized it because he’d spent most of that year staring at it, wondering if everyone else was just as awkward and ugly as he was. He’s spent so long in front of a mirror that his mother had finally caved and let him get braces. He’d also been diagnosed as having astigmatism and had picked up a pair of snazzy frames to complete the transformation.

However, what he didn’t recognize was the background of the picture: a darkened room with a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. In the immediate foreground was a hand, clenched onto the arm of the person who looked exactly like Riley.

“Is that Amir?” he asked with a dry throat, clearing it compulsively as he tried to swallow and couldn’t.

“That’s you,” Ben said softly.

Riley tapped onto the next picture. His face. A gun now in frame.

“Questions,” he murmured, a faint flicker of a memory at the edge of his brain. The harder he tried to grasp it, though, the more it slipped away.

“What?”

“Questions, they were asking questions.” That much he knew. Anyone would know it. A gun, a dark room. Ominous and terrifying.

“Do you remember them?”

Riley shook himself, the memory gone completely. “No,” he said. “Are you sure that’s me?”

“Just keep looking.”

The next eight pictures got progressively worse, and Riley wondered why he wouldn’t remember this at all. He’d have thought a gun to his head would have been pretty damn memorable. The torture made his stomach flip, and he clicked past those pictures quickly.

The eleventh picture was of Riley’s first day of senior year with his new braces and glasses. He remembered the watch on his wrist, the brand new backpack he’d saved up for, the yellow t-shirt with a clever saying that he’d had to turn inside out when a teacher didn’t like it. This was him.

So who was the other him?

And if it was really him, why didn’t he remember it at all?

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he turned to Ben. “Is this why Sanjova is trying to kill me?”

Ben nodded. “At least,” he clarified, “that’s what Sadusky thinks.”

“And where is Sanjova now?”

“In jail. He got arrested after he assaulted me. Sadusky says he has agents sitting on him. He won’t be able to get to you again.”

“And what about them?” Riley pointed at his laptop, at the still-open picture of him. “That’s definitely me, but I don’t recall those other pictures. They were taken close together. I mean, if that is me, it’s within the same few months.”

“Do you have any time in your memory that’s missing?”

“No.” Riley used to have blackouts when he was in high school, but he hadn’t thought of them in years because they’d stopped after he graduated. “Wait, what about medical issues?”

“What about them?”

He explained about his fainting spells, about losing time during a math test and waking up in the hospital. “I don’t know, though. Can that really be evidence of someone secretly kidnapping me and torturing me? And what is even the deal with Amir?”

“Amir Dansing.”

Riley’s stomach lurched at the full name, and he was reminded how it made him feel anxious earlier when Ben had let him decode some of the flash drive.

“It is an alibi,” he realized.

“Or Riley Poole is.” Ben shot him an apologetic look. “I’m going to clean up the vomit now,” he announced. “Why don’t you rest some more now?”

Numbly, Riley nodded, exiting out of the flash drive and ejecting it. He started a defragmentation on the hard drive. Ben accepted the flash drive, tucking it back into his pocket. Then, he left the room.

Riley set the laptop down on the table next to the bed, making sure the power cord was plugged in. He turned onto his side, curling around his stomach, still flipping uncomfortably. If Amir Dansing was his real name, why didn’t he know it?

And the bigger question: why was he tortured and where was his memory of it?

Riley knew then, that he would have to go through all those files on the cloned flash drive to discover the answers. The trick would be distracting Ben so that he wouldn’t get in the way, or get hurt, if things slid sideways.

Maybe Riley could have Sadusky help him. With Sanjova’s involvement, surely the FBI had a stake in the answers. One way to find out.

A wide yawn cracked his jaw, and he blinked after it. He could talk to Sadusky after a short nap. He needed to replenish his energy. His mind tripped tiredly, reminding him that he’d given up a great source of energy by throwing up the cereal. Right now, though, he didn’t care.

Sleep and then Sadusky.

Sadusky and then answers.

Riley drifted off to sleep.

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we've reached the end of what I have officially written, there will be a brief two week hiatus while I write the rest of the story. There may be one or two chapters and an epilogue.
> 
> Thanks to all who read. It is greatly appreciated.


	8. Eight

~ * ~

Riley woke up when Abigail sat down on the bed, her hand against his forehead.

“How are you feeling?” she asked when she realized he was awake.

Riley grunted. “Time is it?”

“It’s almost 2:00 p.m.”

“I have to call Sadusky.” Riley patted at his pockets and then the bedside table. “Where is my phone?”

“Right here.” Abigail handed it to him. “Mind me asking why you need to call Sadusky?”

Riley waved at his laptop. “Ben has some information about my past. Thing is, I don’t remember it at all.”

“And the FBI can help?” Abigail raised an eyebrow. “Riley, the _FBI_?”

He paused, phone contact selected. “Abigail, my past is the reason Sanjova attacked me. He’s trying to kill me. Don’t you think the FBI would be interested in something like that? I mean, doesn’t it count as domestic terrorism to radioactively poison someone?”

“It is.” Abigail took his phone and punched in Sadusky for him. She handed it back to him and then said, “Do you really think he can help you?”

“I hope so.”

Sadusky answered, a brusque “Hello” that meant he was either busily distracted or he hated Riley’s guts.

“Hi,” Riley said.

“Mr. Poole.” Papers shuffled in the background. Busy then. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you had more information on Sanjova and why he targeted me.”

“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” Sadusky said. “But, I can tell you that you won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“What about his organization?”

“How do you know about that?” Sadusky demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious? Sanjova can’t have gotten the thallium himself and infiltrated the hospital as a doctor.”

“Well he could have,” Abigail pointed out. Riley shushed her.

“He could have,” Sadusky said anyway. “But I think you’re right and that he’s part of an organization.”

“So, have you caught the rest of his organization?”

“Ongoing investigation.”

“Then you really can’t say with certainty that I’m not still in danger.” Riley glanced at Abigail. “And you can’t say that I’m not endangering other people by being around them.”

“Mr. Poole, you are safe. The FBI takes its job very seriously. Protecting you is part of that job.”

“Oh, okay.” Riley hung up. Abigail gave him a look. “What? I’ll send him a fruit basket.”

“Do you feel safe here?”

“Do you?”

Abigail smiled then, reaching out to run a hand down his arm. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

“How’d you like to help me learn about my past?” he asked.

She looked contemplative. “Why not Ben?”

“Ben didn’t want to involve me at first.”

“Okay. I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”

Riley pulled out the cloned flash drive. “I need to know more about Graves Island. It’s just off the coast of Boston.”

“The Graves,” Abigail said. “I’ve heard of it. It’s not inhabited is it?”

“Maybe.” Riley booted up his computer and started his programs. “Here, I’ll put a search in and see if it’s contained in this information.”

“Where did you get that?” Abigail asked, shoving him over until she could sit against the headboard too.

“Ben got it. I think from Sadusky. The encryption on it is above standard.”

There were a few results in the information dump, and Riley opened the first result.

“Is that…?” Abigail pointed at his screen, but Riley couldn’t answer her.

It was an article about how he, as a seventeen year old senior in high school had been kidnapped walking home one night.

“Why can’t I remember this?” he asked.

“Selective amnesia? Maybe you do remember, but you’ve blocked it out?”

“Maybe,” he agreed, opening one of the .jpeg files. “These are me,” he said. “But, they’re labeled ‘Amir Dansing.’”

“Just to be clear, Riley Poole is your real name, right?”

“I thought so,” Riley said. “I mean, as long as I can remember, I’ve been Riley. Not Amir.”

“Who took these pictures?”

“Probably whoever kidnapped me. Hey, do you think it has something to do with the fact that the CIA tried to recruit me in high school?”

“They did?”

“Yeah. I was, like, a sophomore or whatever and they wanted me to join them when I graduated. They were really talking up what I could do and telling me I’d be perfect.”

Abigail studied him with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t go to the CIA,” she said. “They wouldn’t have let you go on Ben’s treasure hunts.”

“No, I didn’t. And when I graduated college, I only knew one thing: I didn’t ever want to work for the CIA. So, I joined a hacking group, and that’s where Ben met me. He offered a more interesting prospect, and I took it.”

“I’m glad you did,” Abigail told him. “I’m mostly glad because it means that you are safe even if someone tried to kill you, but I’m also glad because it means I got to meet you. I like you, Riley.”

“I like you too, Abigail.” Riley turned back to his computer so that he could avoid the bitterness he felt welling up in his chest. It wasn’t often that he couldn’t ignore his jealous side, that Ben got the girl when Riley appreciated her more. Abigail was smart, kind, and generous. Ben often took her for granted, and more than once, Riley had sent her flowers at her workplace from Ben because he thought she deserved to know that she was loved.

He could feel the cracks in their relationship again, and selfishly, he wanted Abigail to stay and Ben to go. He’d known Ben far longer, but he felt better around Abigail.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Too many things. Let’s see what else we can find on this thing.” He avoided the rest of the pictures, not wanting to alarm her with the obvious torture. Instead, he poked through some reports, letting Abigail take over reading them when his vision started swimming.

“I found something,” she said a few minutes later, and Riley hauled himself up. He accepted the laptop back and scrolled through the new images she’d located. “I think that’s a compound on the island.”

“It is,” Riley said. He could almost feel something, like a word on the tip of his tongue, only it was an image in his brain. He felt like he’d been there before, walking those halls, tasting salt in the air and blood on his lips.

He licked his lips now, relieved that there was nothing on them.

The next picture was a large room with a chair in the center of it. Riley stared at it. It was the same one from the .jpeg files. He was positive. Did that mean…? A few more pictures later and a figure, bag over its head, arms tied behind its back, was led into the room and set on the chair.

“Riley?” Abigail said, concern coloring her voice. Riley turned to her. “You’re panicking. Do you want to stop?”

Riley looked back at the laptop, at the picture. A man, face obscured by a hat, was leaning over the figure, one hand on its shoulder, the other on the bag.

“That’s me,” he said. “That’s me. Oh, god, that’s me. I am Amir Dansing. That’s the CIA.”

“The CIA kidnapped you?”

“And tortured me.” At Abigail’s questioning glance, Riley opened the .jpeg file of Amir’s bloody face.

“Riley,” she breathed, hand clutched tightly on his arm. “They just got away with it?”

“I don’t remember it,” he said. “I really don’t. I know it’s in there because it’s familiar. It’s—so close.”

“Déjà vu,” Abigail suggested. “Do you think something like hypnotherapy could unlock your memories?”

“It’s worth a shot.” Riley closed the files down, ejecting the flash drive. “I don’t think I want to know anymore right now.”

“That’s fine. It’s your past. We’ll go as slow as you need.”

“Except Ben has the same information. I don’t think he’ll understand going slow.”

“Then I’ll make him,” Abigail promised. “For now, do you think you could come eat supper? It’s homemade mac and cheese.”

“That sounds good. Let me just run a program to sweep my computer so that it won’t keep the files in memory.”

Abigail pulled him down until she could press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t be too long,” she said, sliding off the bed.

Riley rubbed at the spot, feeling off balance and a little unsettled, but liking it all the same. “I won’t,” he said, and she nodded at him.

~ * ~

Sadusky pulled his head up from his papers and blinked at Jenny standing in his doorway. “It’s 9:00,” she repeated, and he nodded.

“That means it’s time to go home,” she said when he didn’t move.

“I’m close,” he said. “I can feel it.”

“Have you even had a break?”

“No.” Sadusky looked at the coffee cups littering his desk. He’d appropriated his whole team’s mugs just so he wouldn’t have to leave his office. “Look, Jenny, I know it’s your job to keep me on my toes, but just this once, couldn’t you look the other way?”

“No,” she said, grinning at him. “Whatever breakthrough you’re about to have can wait eight hours. Go home, get some sleep. Come back with a fresh mind.”

Sadusky stared down at the papers. He could feel his lead slipping away the more he thought about it. He sighed. “Fine. You win. Let me just put these away.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

She helped him carry the six mugs to the kitchenette on this level. She patted his arm as he turned on the sink, soaping a dishcloth. “Good night, Jenny,” he called.

She waved, disappearing around the corner. Sadusky turned back to his task. It took ten minutes to wash the mugs, rinsing each one carefully and setting them in the dish drainer.

Surprisingly, the action relaxed him, and when he returned to his office, he was able to study the reports again, sticking different colored paperclips onto the pages, green for useful, red for useless, blue for unknown, and yellow for the reports he hadn’t gotten to yet. Then, he unlocked his file cabinet, laid each file inside, and locked it again, tucking the key into his pocket.

Today had been a good day even if he hadn’t actually accomplished all that he had wanted to.

Jenny was right: there was always tomorrow. Besides, he was so close that the answer could be staring him right in the face and he wouldn’t see it. A good night’s sleep would help with that.

Sadusky’s phone began ringing when he was in the elevator. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he answered.

He was expecting either Riley or Ben again. Instead, it was Agent Johnson.

“Sir,” she said, “we have the rest of Sanjova’s cell isolated. We’re working with local police to take them all down. There’s about seventeen people in the cell. Without Sanjova, they appear to have been content to give up their target.”

“I’m on my way,” Sadusky told her, watching as the elevator dropped to the ground floor. He stabbed the button for his floor again. “There’s just one thing I need to grab first.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Johnson.”

The elevator beeped as he hung up, and he hurried to his office, unlocking the file cabinet so he could grab the list of names that the reports belonged to. Jenny was a life saver, and Sadusky sent her a text that just said “TY.” By the time he’d locked up again, signed out his service weapon, and headed back down to the parking garage, she’d responded with a semi-colon and a right parenthesis. A smile. He liked it. He’d have to use it on his granddaughters. They’d either get a kick out of it or be mortified. Either way, it’d be a fun experience.

For now, though, he had work and needed to focus. He turned off his phone and shoved it into the storage space under the armrest.

~ * ~

Ben watched Abigail and Riley with their heads together after supper. He was suspicious only of the fact that Riley had announced he was tired and wanted to go back to bed almost an hour ago, but he and Abigail were currently engaged in a debate over the best Bond film.

Riley yawned suddenly, his jaw cracking almost painfully sounding as he tried to cover it.

“Sorry,” he apologize. “I think I really ought to get to bed now.”

“Do you want me to come with?” Abigail asked. “Do you want water or a bucket?”

“Both sound nice, actually. Thank you.”

Riley stood up, wavering on his feet. Abigail steadied him with a hand to his arm.

“Riley,” Ben said, louder than he’d meant. They both looked at him, Abigail frowning at him. “Do you want to check more into the flash drive tomorrow?”

Abigail and Riley exchanged a glance that if Ben was reading right, was absolute terror.

“Uh, no,” Riley said. “No thank you. I’ve got an appointment tomorrow.”

 “Oh yeah? Where?”

“Ben!”

“What?”

“It’s, uh, it’s a private appointment. I don’t really feel comfortable telling you about it.”

“I think you should,” Ben pressed, ignoring Abigail’s second indignant squawk. “I mean, every time I leave you alone, you end up either getting poisoned or something.”

Riley laughed humorlessly. “I think I’ll be fine,” he said, and it almost sounded cold.

“I’m just trying to help,” Ben said.

“Yeah, well, stop. It’s not working.” Riley accepted the glass of water Abigail handed him and then they both headed for Riley’s room.

For a brief, jealous second, Ben thought they were going to do more than get Riley situated in bed, that the yawning was a cover for something else. He jumped to his feet, and then deflated at the absolutely venomous look Abigail shot him.

“We will talk about this,” she said, hand hovering at Riley’s back as she grabbed a champagne bucket on their way past it. “Ben, you’re overstepping, and I honestly can’t tell if you’re aware or not.”

Petty, Ben said, “We’re still together.”

Abigail stopped, turning back to him. If he’d thought she was mad before, it was nothing to the naked fury darkening her eyes now. “At this moment?” she said, barely kept from spitting it at him, and he would deserve that, he thought. “We’re not anything. You have no claim over me.”

Before they got too far away, Ben heard Riley ask, “Are you okay?”

“Ask me again later,” Abigail responded, and the door slammed behind them.

Ben sat down again, head in his hands. He was screwing this up royally. He didn’t deserve Abigail even if she could somehow convince herself to stay with him.

He only wanted to help, but he was beginning to think that his dad had been right the first time: Riley wasn’t a treasure.

His friendship was. Definitely. And Abigail’s too.

Before he could think too much further than that, Abigail stomped out of Riley’s room and made a beeline for him.

“What the hell?” she snapped, feet away but feeling like she was in his face.

“I just,” he began, and she held up her hand.

“You pushed where you shouldn’t have. What if Riley had told you what his appointment was for tomorrow? What would you have done?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Depending on what it was, I’d have either gone with him or convinced him he didn’t need it.”

“And why, Ben, would you do that? Who are you to tell Riley what’s good for him?”

“I’m not,” Ben said. “I would never. I—Riley’s my friend, I just want the best for him.”

“Even if that means disregarding everything about him that doesn’t fit what you think you know about him?”

“Abigail, he’s been hurt before. I just don’t want him to get hurt again.”

“I really think you’re the wrong person for this.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I think I’m too mad to keep talking tonight,” she said. “I’m going to stay in Riley’s room tonight. I don’t know if I’ll be ready to talk to you tomorrow.” She turned on her heel, heading back for Riley’s room. She suddenly stopped, looking back at him. “Don’t you dare even try to bother Riley tomorrow. If I find out you did, you’re out of here. No question. And don’t even think of trying to come back. If you hurt Riley, because that’s what you’re doing, Ben, then you’re out of both of our lives until you can learn to be better.”

Quietly, she added, “We’re not puzzles that need to be solved.”

The door didn’t slam behind her this time, but it felt louder and reverberated more in his chest. She was right, he knew she was right. He was like a dog with a bone sometimes. Riley had joked about it off and on, sometimes wrapping clues in paper and writing “Fetch” on them.

No. Ben wasn’t like a dog with a bone; he was like a shitty, shitty friend that didn’t listen to or pay attention to the clues closest to him because, as someone had said, maybe behind his back once or twice, he had to be right. If it didn’t fit in his ideal, he discarded it.

And he was wrong to do that.

Ben stood up stiffly.

He wasn’t helping anyone right now, least of all himself. He stopped in front of Riley’s closed door, trying very hard not to listen to the quiet murmur of voices beyond it.

He sighed, turning to head toward his and Abi—his room.

He thought he’d be lucky if Abigail did talk to him tomorrow. He’d also be lucky if she only threw him out of the house and not their lives too.

Ben couldn’t sleep.

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-edited. Will edit soon. Thanks for reading.


	9. Nine

~ * ~

Controlled chaos. Sadusky studied his team as they moved in tandem, each directing a small task force as they prepared to bust up Sanjova’s cell.

He sat back and watched. Right now, his presence on the scene would only cause a diversion, and they were already so close to breaking this case.

Sadusky ran his finger down the list of applicant names, comparing it to the list on his phone he’d had Johnson send him.

Seventeen names on one list, sixty-eight on the other. And one name that matched on both lists.

Robbie Cameron. A kid fresh from college. Rejected from Sadusky’s task force because he was just too green to be trusted.

Sadusky shoved the information into his briefcase and then stashed the briefcase in the lockbox in his trunk.

He strolled up to the agent in charge. Already several of the cell’s members were seated on the curb, hands secured behind their backs. All of them young men, college age or just a few years older.

In the midst, Robbie Cameron, shirtless, scared.

He saw Sadusky and struggled to his bare feet. His blond hair was mussed, like he was sleeping when they found him.

“Sir,” he said. “Sir, what’s going on?”

“You would know,” Sadusky said. “Who’s Robert Sanjova to you?”

“Dr. Sanjova?” Cameron repeated. Understanding flashed across his face. “You have to understand, we weren’t part of that. We were keeping an eye on him.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” Sadusky eyed him coldly. “A man was poisoned because of Sanjova.”

“No, you don’t understand; we didn’t help him. He just owns the house.”

“So you didn’t know about his plot to poison—”

“We knew,” one of the other men, dark, thick curls, scraggly beard, and glasses, interrupts. “He was targeting a man he said was betraying the country. We didn’t help him. But we knew.”

Cameron sighed, rubbing his face on his shoulder. “Okay, yeah, we knew he was targeting Riley Poole, but Sanjova is harmless.”

“Did you miss the part where he was poisoned?” Agent Hendericks demanded.

Cameron shook his head. “He thinks he poisoned him.”

“Actually,” Sadusky said, “he did poison him. We found thallium at Mr. Poole’s residence. Do you know how he got the thallium?”

The curly-haired man shook his head. “Not my department,” he said. “Maybe Arthur knows something.”

“And which one is Arthur?”

The curly-haired man jerked his chin at the man on the end. Sadusky nodded to Hendricks and he led the curly-haired man to the FBI van.

The man on the end was still sitting down when Sadusky came to a parade rest in front of him. He was studying the ground, digging his bare toes into the grass, shifting the blades with a kind of fascination born of ignoring.

Sadusky cleared his throat. The man looked up.

“Arthur?” Only one Arthur on the list: Arthur Daniels, a chemistry major out of George Washington University.

“Yes?” the man said. His eyes were set far apart in his face, his mouth a thin slash. His face was artificially tanned, chemically burned and peeling behind his jaw. His hair was dyed bright blue, eyes done up with the same color.

“I understand you are a chemist.”

Arthur snorted. “If you want to call me that, yeah. I haven’t gotten my degree yet.”

“What do you know about thallium?”

Arthur shrugged. “I know it’s the most common type of accidental radiation poisoning in the United States. It’s also the one most easily bound to Prussian Blue.”

“And how hard is it to get a hold of?”

“Thallium? Not too difficult. I mean, there’s any number of experiments to be run on it.”

“Have you ever handled it?”

“Yeah. We did a lab on it about six weeks ago.” He narrowed his eyes at Sadusky. “Does this have something to do with Sanjova’s mission?”

“What mission is that?”

Daniels shrugged. “He had a hard on for this one guy. You know, that treasure hunter. Not the old guy. He was mad at him for something.” He frowned. “Treason? I don’t know. All I know is to live here, you had to swear fealty to his cause. I mean, we all did. It was on the lease. But, as far as I know, none of us actually gave a damn about helping him with his cause. It’s just so stupid, you know, to go after one guy for whatever reason. I mean, if the guy really did commit treason, why not just involve the FBI or something?”

Sadusky nodded, stepping back to think. It didn’t make sense, Sanjova assembling a cell and then all of them refusing to help him. They could all be lying, but the petulant, baleful looks being shot at all the agents and police milling about were less fearful and more annoyed. At least half of the men assembled where in various states of undress, as if the raid had awakened them.

It was a Wednesday night. Neither here nor there in terms of partying or being drunk. In fact, at a glance, all of them appear sober.

Sadusky moved in front of Arthur again. “Did any of your thallium go missing when you did your lab?”

Daniels shook his head. “Not that I know, but what do I know? I’m just a graduate student.”

“You’re not in charge of any labs or anything?”

That’s a thing, right? Students having to earn extra credit by teaching their classmates?

Daniels struggled to his feet, leveraging himself up gracelessly. “I had nothing to do with it, okay? I’m not part of Sanjova’s freaking cult.”

“None of us are,” the man next to them said. “Sanjova had us all sign that piece of paper, but I checked with my lawyer. None of us were obligated to help him.”

“So why did you stay?”

The man shrugged. “Cheap rent? I mean, it’s D.C., man. I can barely afford my tuition, much less a nice apartment.”

Sadusky nodded at the house behind them. It looked like the last of the men was being pulled out now. “Seventeen of you in there?”

“Eighteen,” Daniels corrected. “Sanjova’s nephew joined us this past month. He’s studying law enforcement of some kind, I think.”

“Counter-terrorism,” the other man added. “He won’t shut up about how he’s going to help the government by being the best agent they’ve ever seen.” He shuddered. “I thought Cameron was bad when he was accepted to the FBI. This guy is, like, ten times worse.”

“What’s his name?” Sadusky pulled out his Steno pad, uncapping his pen.

“Michael Arbiter,” Daniels said. “A-R-B-I-T-E-R. He’s studying at George Washington too.”

“They have a good law enforcement program?”

Daniels shrugged. “They have a better chemistry department,” he said.

Sadusky flipped his pad closed, letting Agent Dawes corral Daniels and his buddy. Then, Sadusky headed back for his car. He grabbed his list of applicants, running his finger down it until he found Arbiter, Michael.

Here was the leak and Sanjova’s connection.

He hadn’t noticed if his agents had brought him out, so that was the next order of business. Get these fine, young gentlemen processed and booked, see if he couldn’t scare the hell out of them. Get more information regarding Sanjova’s plots. Surely Riley Poole wasn’t the only person Sanjova had targeted.

Sadusky sighed, shoving his glasses up and rubbing at his eyes. It was going to be another long night.

~ * ~

Abigail couldn’t sleep, staring up at the ceiling. Riley was snoring softly, and usually, the noise would have bothered her, but right now, she felt relieved she could hear him.

He’d fallen asleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow. He was still exhausted, and his hair was almost completely gone.

She played with the beanie he’d set aside before going to sleep. He was getting better, she thought, but it was taking time. It was frustrating watching him struggle so much.

It was frustrating to have fallen for Ben’s charm and wiles and then have him turn out exactly the same, as if the past year had taught him nothing.

Patrick and Emily were still together, so it wasn’t as if Gates men couldn’t learn to better themselves. Though, if she was being honest, she hadn’t exactly been faultless in this last breakup.

The only one who couldn’t be blamed for the deterioration of her and Ben’s relationship was Riley.

He hadn’t come between them before, and he wasn’t now despite the glares Ben leveled at him.

If anything, Abigail was the one who was coming between Riley and Ben because, and this was something she could no longer deny, she was falling in love with Riley.

In some ways, she wished she had seen Riley first. “Bill” was definitely winning right now. “Paul Brown” was inconsiderate and unable to see what he was doing wrong.

Abigail sat up, laying the beanie down again. She crawled off the bed and slipped out of the room. She would be back before Riley woke up. She would make sure of it.

Right now, she needed to get out for a bit.

When she stepped out onto the front steps, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Ben sitting there.

He glanced up at her, sighing and patting the spot next to him.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see,” he said, “but I need to apologize to you.”

She gingerly sat down, brushing her hands down her thighs. She stayed silent, waiting to see what he would do.

Ben sighed again. “I’m sorry,” he said, and it didn’t sound too forced. “I’ve been focused on solving a mystery that doesn’t even need to be solved.”

“You’re a puzzler.”

Ben chuckled dryly. “That I am. Through and through.” His smile dropped. “I haven’t been giving you the love that you need, and for that I’m sorry. I know we’re through, for good this time, and I know you must feel relief.”

Abigail shook her head. “Ben,” she said, warning.

“What?” At her flat look, he frowned, thinking back on his words. His face suddenly cleared into understanding. “I just put words in your mouth, didn’t I? I assumed how you felt without letting you tell me.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she said. “It’s part of the argument with how to care for Riley. You’re not trying to help him how he needs to be helped. You’re still looking at it as how it affects you.” It was her turn to sigh. “Ben, you could be a really good man and friend, but you lack empathy and the ability to look at a situation from someone else’s point of view.”

“I’m not getting out of this as friends with you, am I?”

Abigail pursed her lips. “Probably not,” she admitted. “Right now I can’t look at you without feeling anger crawling up my throat.”

“What about Riley? Has he said anything about me?”

“That’s the thing about Riley,” she said. “He can be so disappointed in the people around him, but he won’t tell them. He’s a good friend.”

Ben nodded. “Do you remember the book he wrote after we found the Templar’s Treasure?”

Abigail nodded. “I read it, you know,” she said. “I just couldn’t find the words to tell him about it. I mean, it’s stupid. All it takes is, ‘Riley, I read your book. I liked it. It was well-researched and your voice is funny.’”

Ben looked surprised.

“Did you read it?” she asked, but she already knew the answer even before Ben shook his head. “Why not? It means a lot to him.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been busy. The Templar Treasure was already found.”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “Ben, we literally used Riley’s book to find the next treasure. The Templar Treasure wasn’t the only thing he wrote about.”

“Yeah, he wrote about his conspiracy theories too. That’s enough not to read the book right there.”

“What a shitty thing to say,” Abigail remarked, as flippantly as she could. “Riley included conspiracy theories, yes, but he actually did the research on them and cited his sources so that anyone who was curious and wanted to solve another mystery could do so with the groundwork already laid out.” She stood up, dusting off her pants. It was a mistake to come out here, that much was obvious.

“Ben, I want you to think about this: what has Riley done for you? What doesn’t he do? Make a list. If the good outweighs the bad, then you can ask Riley if he’ll be friends with you. If the bad outweighs the good, then please, be gentle. He doesn’t deserve your wrath.”

Ben stared at her. She left him sitting there, heading back in to Riley.

He was sitting up, the beanie back on his head, his laptop booted up, the flash drive inserted.

“Hey, Abigail,” he said quietly, smiling at her in a way that made her insides twist. “I’m creating a file to give to the hypnotherapist tomorrow.”

“That’s a good idea.”

He studied her critically. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look like you went nine rounds with a bull.”

She laughed. “I feel like it too.” She climbed onto the bed, knocking their shoulders together.

Riley knocked back gently. “Ben?” he asked, knowingly. She nodded. “It’ll get better,” he promised. “In time. And if you don’t purposefully seek him out.” He paused, staring at the wall, a vacant look in his eyes. “Sometimes,” he said, “I don’t think Ben realizes how infuriating his can be.”

“True,” she said. “I keep hoping that he’ll change, but he never does.”

“The consequences aren’t enough for him.” Riley waved it away, plugging in another flash drive. He copied a bunch of files, none of them pictures, to the new drive before he ejected both of them and started the computer running a debugging program.

“Why do you do that every time?” Abigail asked him.

“It’s a precaution. Just in case something bad is on the flash drive when I access the files.”

“Good to know.”

The program finished and he shut down the computer, setting it aside.

Abigail tapped the beanie. “Are you going to wear this to sleep?”

He removed it, folding it as best he could and laying it atop his laptop. “Better?” he asked, unsure.

“Yes.” Abigail leaned up so that she could press a kiss to his forehead. Riley smiled at her and then flopped back onto the pillow.

She reached across him and turned off the light.

She thought she wouldn’t be able to sleep again, but Riley threw an arm over her pillow and let her cuddle into his side, and she found herself drifting off easily.

Traitorously, she thought, sleep came easier than any other time she’d slept with a partner.

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-edited. Will edit when I have time. There should be only one more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts.
> 
> Also, I will update the tags for the developing Abigail/Riley at that time.
> 
> Thanks to any and all who read.


	10. Ten

~ * ~

Riley sank down in the chair, ankles and hands crossed. The psychiatrist looked up from her file.

“Wonderful,” she said. “We’ll move to the couch in a bit. But for now, I’d like to get to know you a bit, Riley.”

“About what?” Riley glanced around the room again. He was a little disconcerted that there were no windows, but it was to be expected since this office was an interior structure.

Dr. Halloran capped her pen. “Riley, you made an appointment to see me, an emergency appointment no less.”

“Abigail scheduled it for me,” he muttered, uncrossing his hands so that he could rub at his arms. He found he couldn’t look up to meet her eyes. “I don’t remember things that happened to me, but they were so long ago.” He sighed, adjusting his beanie. Like a bandage, he pulled it off. “Recently, I was poisoned. It’s related to the things that I can’t remember.”

“Are you sure you want to remember?”

Riley shrugged, putting the hat back on. “Maybe?” He squinted at her certification. He drew in a shuddering breath, forcing himself to make eye contact. “I was tortured when I was seventeen. I don’t remember it at all. I need to.”

“Okay. And you want me to take you back there even though it might have the ability to traumatize you again?”

“Even then.” He shook harder, his whole body vibrating with it. Dr. Halloran shook her head, pulling his file closer so that she could scribble something in it.

“No,” she said, “definitely not. You’re nowhere ready to dive into your past.” She set her pen down again. “We’ll work our way up to it, okay? I’m not going to do hypnotherapy with you just yet. For now, I’d like to talk about your poisoning, how that makes you feel, what you want to do with your life now.”

“Okay,” Riley said, relief flooding his system, making him relax in the chair. “Okay. I can do that.”

Dr. Halloran smiled. “Wonderful. Shall we begin?”

~ * ~

After Abigail had dropped Riley off at the psychiatrist’s office, she had headed into work to do a couple of things and request more vacation days.

Her boss was slightly understanding when she explained that it had something to do with Ben too.

He was going through his third divorce and he agreed that it wasn’t easy the first, second, or third time.

Riley was waiting on the steps outside when she pulled up, and she worried that he’d been waiting long.

He smiled brilliantly at her, flashing her a couple of thumbs-up as well.

“It went well,” he said, buckling his own seatbelt. “I mean, she refuses to do the hypnotherapy, and I think I agree with her. It just makes me feel really anxious, like I’ve got a nervous heart or something.”

“That’s nice,” Abigail said. “Did you do anything else, any other intake things?”

Riley shrugged. “I talked about you,” he said, a guilty expression on his face. “About you and Ben and how I feel like I’m letting you down. She gave me instructions to keep a journal of all the negative things I think and another one of all the positive things you guys say to me.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly? Pretty great. It feels like it’s a step in the right direction.” He twisted his hands together before deliberately separating them and laying them on his lap. “I mean,” he clarified, “that I’ve always had shit self esteem. Being friends with Ben hasn’t always been the easiest or the best for my emotional well-being. He always has to be the smartest person in the room, and if you’re not half as smart or on the same page, then you’re not worth his time. I kept expecting his rules to apply to me, but he let me hang around.” He shot a quick peek at Abigail. “Then he decided to steal the Declaration of Independence.”

“And he met me,” Abigail realized. She’d known that Ben had ignored Riley in favor of her even then, but she’d been a fool and selfish and had been glad when Ben stopped answering Riley’s calls.

Then the book came out, and she’d gotten her own copy too.

“Riley,” she started, intending to apologize again. He held up a hand to stop her.

“I’m working through my issues,” he said. “I’m aware of everyone’s roles in my life, and ultimately, the responsibility for how I was treated falls on me. If I objected to how I was treated, I should have spoken up.”

“Did Dr. Halloran tell you that?”

Riley’s nervous smile dropped. “No,” he admitted. “I just thought—I mean, I know I could have said something. Right?”

Abigail shook her head. “How could you when no one gave you the chance?” Softer, she added, “Even me.”

Riley looked away then, studying the passing scenery. Abigail focused on driving.

By the time they reached the house, she had decided what she had to say, and she tapped his arm to get his attention.

“Riley, I wanted you to be the first to know: I’m moving out.”

“What?”

Abigail repeated herself, adding, “I just don’t think I can stay here.”

Riley blinked at her. He didn’t appear to be breathing. “Tell me it’s because of Ben,” he said, strained.

Abigail nodded. “Always. Riley, you are definitely not why I’m moving out.” She sighed. “I’ve been butting heads with Ben for so long that I really think I need a new perspective. Last time I made him move out. This time, I’m leaving.”

“Can I come with you?” he asked. Immediately he made a face. “Sorry, no, that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird at all,” she assured him. “In fact, I think I’d like that.” She smiled at him. He still looked unconvinced but he nodded. “You’re my friend, Riley. I want to be there for you.”

“Even if I’m not there for you?”

“But you are. You let me vent to you about Ben.”

“But I don’t offer you food or comfort. All I do is bring the FBI to your doorstep.”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “Riley, being a friend, a good friend, is different for everyone. You’ve been a good friend. Trust me. Write that in your journal.”

Riley nodded slowly. “You’re a really good friend too,” he said. “I’ll write that too. Dr. Abigail Chase is my best friend and she likes me as a friend too.”

Abigail couldn’t explain the blush on her cheeks any more than she could understand the crushing disappointment at his words.

She’d just gotten out of a relationship. She shouldn’t jump right back into one again, especially not with Riley, who was vulnerable and didn’t think he deserved her friendship.

“Thank you,” Riley said, patting her arm. “I’m glad you’re you.” He slammed the car door behind him.

Abigail sat in the car for a few more minutes, trying to decide if she should bolster up her courage and tell him how she felt.

She thought of last night, of sitting with Ben on the steps and knowing she couldn’t go back to the way things had been. She didn’t want that with Riley. She wasn’t ready to lose him if she made him choose between Ben and herself. Not that she would ask him to do that. Riley just had a way of emotions being black or white. Everything else was a lovely shade of gray.

No, she decided. Better not to tell him right now.

It could wait until they were both a little less raw.

~ * ~

Michael Arbiter was a coward who ran at the first sight of the FBI knocking at his workplace.

Which was a McDonalds.

Sadusky regretted his whole life that had led to this point in time where he was standing in the middle of a busy fast food restaurant, watching as his agents chased a buff man who was crying loudly around the counter. Finally, fed up, he stuck his foot out, kicking Arbiter’s leg out from under him. He went down hard and stayed down, mostly because Agent Johnson jumped on his back.

Arbiter was blubbering too hard to give them enough information, and Sadusky rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like they needed it. They had the rest of Arbiter’s roommates and his uncle. They weren’t looking for anyone else. So far, Riley Poole had been the only victim. Based on the information on the flash drive, the one Ben Gates had copied, Riley Poole was the only person from the Graves who hadn’t been converted into a CIA agent.

Sadusky had a feeling that Riley’s kidnapping and torture was the reason the Graves was empty now. He’d sent a team out when they’d first received the file from their shared contact with the CIA.

The chair in the Amir Dansing photos was still there, Riley’s blood on it. If it was true that he couldn’t remember what had happened in that bunker, then Sadusky thought he shouldn’t go looking for it.

He knew Dr. Halloran. She was a psychiatrist first and a sensationalist second. She would do her duty to convince Riley that he was better off not remembering, but eventually she’d push. He knew he should warn him, but he was honestly curious too about why the CIA had recruited a high school junior and then tortured him and let him go.

Maybe Ben had it right all along and Riley really was the treasure everyone was looking for.

No, couldn’t be. People weren’t treasures. The qualities inside them, sure, but the people themselves weren’t.

Sadusky needed to rest. It’d been a bad week. He could talk to Riley after a short nap.

~ * ~

Ben watched as Riley piled meats and cheese into sandwiches. He was wearing some vinyl gloves he’d dug out of god knows where. He made six sandwiches, handing a plate with three to Ben and keeping the other plate with three for himself.

Abigail was somewhere in the house knocking around. She’d grunted when Riley asked her if she wanted lunch, and Riley had shrugged.

He seemed unconcerned with the fact that he hadn’t made anything for Abigail.

“That’s rude,” Ben pointed out.

Riley frowned at him. “What is?”

“That.” Ben waved at the plate. Riley glanced down, as if just seeing the sandwiches now. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’ve got your appetite back, but I just think that you should have made something for Abigail too.”

“Ben,” Riley said, smug, “these sandwiches are for Abigail.”

He stomped off to find her, leaving Ben feeling a little off balance. When had Abigail said anything about food? She’d only grunted at Riley. How was Riley more fluent in angry-Abigail than Ben was?

Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He took a few minutes to wrap each sandwich individually and place it in the fridge. Then, he went looking for Riley.

He found both of them in the bedroom. Abigail was folding clothes and stacking them on the bed while Riley tucked each stack into a suitcase.

“What’s going on?” Ben asked. He knew exactly what was happening: Abigail was leaving and Riley was helping her. The plate was discarded on the side table, one sandwich half gone.

“What does it look like?” Abigail said. She threw a pair of boxer shorts at Riley and he tossed it to Ben.

“It looks like you’re packing,” Ben said, letting the garment drop to the floor.

“Brilliant deduction.” Abigail turned back to her task. Riley shot Ben an unreadable look. Ben felt even more off balance and unsettled. First he entirely missed Abigail asking for food, and now he couldn’t decipher Riley’s facial expressions. Riley had the most expressive face he’d ever seen.

“Why?”

Abigail sighed. “I’m leaving. No, you can’t change my mind.”

“Why are you leaving?”

“Because if I stay, I leave myself open to your manipulation, and I can’t do it again. Ben, I can’t.”

He bristled at that. “I don’t manipulate you,” he said. He looked to Riley only to find him staring down at the suitcase, smoothing out a t-shirt he’d refolded just to avoid the confrontation.

“Ben!” Abigail snapped.

“What?” he sneered back. “Am I not allowed to seek support from my _friend_?”

“Not when you’re going to try to use him in an argument.”

Riley cleared his throat. “Ben, you do manipulate situations to favor yourself. You’ve fed me enough half lies to get me to help you. If that isn’t manipulation, then my perception is off.”

“And what about Abigail?”

Riley glanced at her, before turning his gaze, impassive and still unreadable onto Ben. “What about her?”

“Why aren’t you chastising her? She keeps jumping in to defend you, but you don’t need defending, do you, Riley?”

“I think maybe I do,” Riley said. “Listen, Ben, we’ve been friends for years. Right now, you’re treading on thin ice. Back up before you sink. Abigail is only pointing out occasions where I might have to defend myself. She gives me that option at least.”

“I’m not the bad guy here,” Ben protested. He didn’t want to lose Riley and Abigail and it made him clutch tighter to Riley only to feel him slipping through his fingers. “What’s wrong with me?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” Riley said. “I’m not qualified to diagnose you, Ben. For that, you’ll have to talk to a licensed health professional.”

It sounded like a joke, but Riley wasn’t smiling.

“I don’t need mental help,” Ben insisted. “I’m not crazy.”

“No one said you were,” Abigail said, softer than she’d been in a while. “Ben, you need to understand why you do the things you do. Until then, you won’t be happy.”

“Do you have to leave?”

Abigail looked from her clothes, nearly all packed, and then to Ben. “I feel I have to,” she said. “Ben, please don’t try to change my mind.”

He opened his mouth, surprised when Riley crammed half a sandwich into it. “Abigail said don’t,” he said, stepping back. “Ben, as much as you want to figure this out, there’s nothing to discover. No clues to decipher or decode or whatever. There’s no puzzle, no mystery, nothing here.” He zipped up Abigail’s suitcase, helping Abigail up. “There’s nothing to fix.”

Ben let them pass, let them collect Riley’s things, let them leave, because they were right. There was nothing to fix. Ben wasn’t broken and neither were they. It wasn’t his fault that they were giving up right now.

He grabbed the plate off the table and threw it against the wall, the shattering of it breaking something apart in his chest. He sank onto the bed, head in his hands. For the first time in almost a decade, Ben cried.

~ * ~

As soon as the door was opened, Riley realized his apartment was stale. Abigail opened as many windows as she could while Riley gathered his blankets and dragged them to the front door.

“There’s a laundromat about two blocks away,” he said, huffing loudly. He sank onto the couch, leaning back and sighing as he worked a kink out of his neck.

Abigail sat next to him. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“About you staying with me?”

She nodded.

He shrugged. “Yeah. I’m positive. You offered your home to me when I needed it. Now you need it, so I’m offering.”

Abigail slid closer, drawing a hand across his shoulders. “There’s something I have to tell you,” she said.

He nodded, waiting for her to collect her thoughts and speak.

Only she didn’t get to because her phone went off.

At first, he thought it was Ben because she wasn’t answering it, but when he motioned for her to give it to him so that he could tell Ben to stuff it, she shook her head.

“Agent Sadusky,” she greeted. She cut a glance to Riley and said, “He’s here.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear and put it on speaker.

“Mr. Poole, Dr. Chase?”

“Morning, Agent Sadusky,” Riley said.

They exchanged pleasantries, and Riley raised an eyebrow at Abigail. She shrugged in return.

“I’m sure you’re wondering about the nature of this call,” Sadusky said. He paused, and Riley imagined him drinking from a mug of coffee. “I wanted to let you know that we’ve managed to completely take down Robert Sanjova’s cell. We even got his supplier of thallium.”

Silence reigned. What could be said? Sanojva was finished. Riley was still here. He turned to Abigail, a smile slowly creeping over his face. She returned it somewhat reluctantly.

“So, there’s no chance of anyone coming after Riley again?” she asked.

“Not as far as we know. We’ll check on him periodically.” Riley opened his mouth to protest, but Abigail clapped a hand over it. Sadusky continued blithely, “We’ll have a series of progress checks. At no time should it feel invasive or like we’re targeting him.”

“That’s wonderful. I imagine you can’t speak about the specifics right now.”

“That is correct. However, once the trials are complete, I’ll make sure Mr. Poole receives the full file minus any redacted or classified information.”

Riley licked Abigail’s palm and she pulled away with a less than disgusted face. He ignored it in favor of shouting, “Thank you!” at Sadusky.

“You are welcome, Mr. Poole. Enjoy the rest of your life, and try to avoid radioactive milk if you can.”

“You know it.”

Abigail set the phone down once Sadusky hung up. “So,” she said, rubbing her hand, the one he’d licked, against her jeans.

“So,” he echoed. “You wanted to tell me something?”

“I did.” She nodded, tongue pressing against her teeth as she studied him. “Can I do something?” she asked.

“Sure?”

She lunged forward, pressing their lips together. Riley froze. She pulled back, ducking her head so that he couldn’t see her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, gently. “What was that for?”

Abigail waved a hand at him. “That’s what I wanted to say. I-I think I’m in love with you.”

Riley touched his lips. He wasn’t sure what to think and he was afraid that he was insulting her by hesitating.

“Are you sure?” he finally asked. When she looked up, he smiled at her, still touching his lips.

“I’m sure,” she whispered.

He moved first, cupping her face between his hands, holding her still so that he could press the barest of kisses to her lips.

Abigail smiled against his mouth, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

They stayed that way for a long minute before the crick resurged in Riley’s neck and he settled back, rubbing at it.

“I don’t want to be the reason you broke up with Ben,” he said.

She shook her head. “It was never about you, Riley, not like that. I didn’t fall in love with you until I didn’t love Ben anymore.” She paused, thinking. “I don’t know if I ever truly loved him like I did before Cibola.”

“How did you want to do this?”

“This?”

“A relationship. Pretty sure my sperm is still radioactive…and inactive.”

Abigail laughed. “We’re not having sex until we’re both ready for that. I jumped too fast with Ben, and while I don’t regret it, I certainly don’t want to rush with you.” She eyed him, gaze soft. “I don’t want to go too fast and burn out.”

“So,” Riley said, nodding toward the pile of blankets, “first date at the laundromat?”

~ * ~


	11. Epilogue

~ Three Months Later ~

Riley ran a hand over his head, feeling the stubble. Slowly, he turned so he could glance in the mirror. Yep, that was hair on his head.

“It’s growing back,” he whispered, gently patting at his head. He smiled and grabbed his hat.

He and Abigail had moved seventeen blocks closer to her work. Renting a house together had been the best thing ever.

They’d moved slow, waiting for the medical all-clear and then for the mental all clear. Sadusky had warned them about Dr. Halloran, and so far, Riley had managed to dissuade her from using the hypnotherapy on him. The further the radiation poisoning was from his present, the more content he was to let his past lie. He’d even buried a box with the flash drives with the information from the Graves on it at his old apartment.

Abigail was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a hearty stew she liked to make when they both had the weekend free and spent it doing other activities.

Riley skidded into the room.

Abigail laughed at him. “What are you doing?” she asked, setting aside the knife. “Do you want to sneak a few bites and ruin your appetite?”

“No,” he said, whipping off his beanie. Abigail recoiled, face crumpling as she stepped forward to run one hand over his head while the other pressed against her mouth.

“It’s growing back,” she said.

“It is,” he confirmed, hand on top of hers, keeping her fingers against his skull.

She laughed again, the timbre completely different.

Therapy was working, his health was returning, and he’d been lucky enough to fall in love with Abigail.

Life couldn’t be more looking up.

Riley moved her hand down so that he could kiss her fingers. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now,” he confessed. “But there is something I’d love to do.”

He knelt, still holding her hand. Tucked inside his hat was the ring box.

“Yes,” she said before he could ask. She tugged him up, smashing their lips together.

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is done! It's still unedited, and I will try to go through it within the next few months, but no promises. Often, I find I can't look at my own work for almost a year after it's complete. _Ohana Mahalo_ languished in complete status for almost two years before I was able to edit and post it.
> 
> I found my research notes! Posted at [my Tumblr](http://1989dreamer.tumblr.com/post/176540194100/research-sources-who-will-remember-your-last).


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